And the Dead Shall Roam
by Oblivion's Tragedy
Summary: You might be wondering how a Canadian ended up with a bunch of Americans in the middle of a Zombie Apocalypse. It all started when visiting friends in Atlanta and trust me I would have stayed home with my dad and his arsenal if I knew the world was going to end, but they're not around anymore. Now I'm trekking around with a group of people I hardly know trying to survive. DarylOC
1. Chapter 1

You know, one would think that the world ending would be, as it should be, shitty, for lack of a better or more accurate term. And you'd, predictably, be right in that assumption. Even the Christians fucking called it, something about Jesus saying the dead would come back to life or some other shit like that. Mayans predicted it too, but the dumb bastards probably weren't able to count since they were a few years late in the prediction. Religion might be wasted on me but you have to admit that the shit people come up with and '_foresee'_ is just so freakishly _real_ sometimes, you know? Way too real for my liking. I swear my comfort level has hit such an all-time low that there's no point of return.

Oh shit, I completely forgot what my original thought had been. Leave it to the crazy girl to babble about the end of the world as she knows it. Sometimes you just can't help but get carried away and rant a little bit right? Thought so.

Anyway, what I was kind of trying to say before was that the world ending really put a damper on my plan making of the future. I was going to do big things, you know? Not quite sure what they really would have been yet though as I was just a lowly waitress with some random and useless college classes under my belt, but hey, a girl can dream. But I can tell you one thing; the dead walking was _definitely not_ part of my grand scheme to take over the world. Neither was running around playing army in the bushes or skulking around an overrun city of dead people I never cared, or even thought of, making nice with. Yet here I am, doing it anyway, machete in hand and an empty revolver tucked into the back of my jeans like some wannabe wangster white chick. I'm not going to lie and say I didn't feel the least bit badass carrying around a gun –that wasn't even loaded –in my ass crack. If I had a holster I would have definitely been calling myself Clint Eastwood.

But before I get too carried away, I should start at the actual beginning.

I had just been some simple Canadian weirdo before this, alright? I liked to watch Lord of the Rings and Star Wars and read dirty little romance novels. I didn't ask for any of this undead shit. All I wanted was a nice vacation to Atlanta for the summer to visit some old friends that moved there after high school but _no_. I had to get caught on the south side of the border in the scorching heat in a city I didn't know how to differentiate from any other fucking city in the U.S. Except for maybe New York and Vegas; those are their own category as far as I'm concerned. But yeah, me; the flamboyant weirdo that I am has to get stuck in Atlanta. _Alone_. During the middle of a goddamn zombie apocalypse! You know those friends I was visiting? Gone. Fucking gone. Got bit, had a fever and died only to 'wake up' and try to make me their knew chew toy.

As you can imagine, I grabbed whatever I could find in my immediate vicinity to beat their asses and high tail it out of their apartment, traumatized not only because I had just watched my friends fucking _die_ right in front of my goddamn face, but also because of the fact that that _got back up_ after that and tried to eat me. Luckily for me I was able to haul ass out of Atlanta only hours before the napalm started going off, the only thing on me to protect my ass was a goddamn pocket knife I took with me everywhere since arriving in the States and a wooden stick that I had managed to salvage from my escape of beating my friends over the head with a chair from the kitchen.

So then I ended up wondering the side of the road amongst a gaggle of crazy ass Atlantians trying to get as far away from the city as possible, dodging cars that were stuck in a traffic build up as they went. The dead, or zombies if you will, were everywhere, following the noise and scent of fresh meat like dogs after a bone, but mauling like a lioness on the plains of Africa. It was chaos and I honestly didn't know what to do. My little knife and whomping stick weren't going to protect my ass from being bitten for much longer considering the fuckers kept getting back up. I couldn't understand why they just wouldn't _die_ already. I'm pretty sure a cut to the jugular would render any other human down for the count, but why weren't these things?

Just as I saw my latest 'victim' get back up slowly after my assault with the chair leg I suppressed a whimper of frustration that would definitely compare to a child throwing a tantrum after losing in a videogame. I was already covered in coagulated blood from these damn things, my glasses all streaked with the thick liquid and my jeans and tank top hardly recognizable anymore. I didn't even want to think about how much of that shit was in my hair.

Daisy, as I so rightfully named my current pain in the ass as it used to be a woman that was wearing a very flowery sundress, came at me again and I prepared myself to lash out with my knife again and hopefully hit whatever weak spot these things must have had, but before I even got the chance a loud 'pop' echoed in the air causing more people to scream, but I didn't make a single sound as 'Daisy' fell to the concrete only a foot in front of me, a gaping bullet hole in its forehead. Speechless, I lifted my eyes from the fallen zombie and immediately spun around when there was a hoarse cackle behind me like whoever it came from just hacked up a lung.

My dark hair whipped around my face as I turned, its sticky blood covered strands plastering to my cheek, forehead and glasses as I brandished my chair leg like some kind of sword. Through the strands of hair and streaks of dark blood inhibiting my vision I was able to glimpse a long barrel of a gun practically next to my head as I heard footsteps approach me. Frantically I brought my hands up, being careful not to stab myself in the eye mind you, and pulled my hair away from my face hastily in order to see who it was that had saved my ass. Before I was completely visual again, that rough voice that had laughed earlier spoke up.

"Gotta aim for the head there, Darlin'," he chuckled letting off another shot as he came to my side. "Otherwise, ya ain't gonna be nothin' but Walker niblets." Finally somewhat able to see again I got a good look at my savior with a shot gun. He was tall, not much taller than me, around 6 feet or more with blue eyes, a square jaw and short dirty blonde almost brown hair. He was a decent build, that much I could tell from his exposed arms from the cut off shirt and vest he wore. I could pin what he was just by looking at him: redneck. And I couldn't have been happier to see one in my whole damn life. He was older than me, probably mid to late 30's whereas I was in my mid 20's.

He was smirking at me, a threat not currently being present as I stared at him in shock, glasses tilted half-hazardly over the bridge of my nose, hair probably wilder than a lion's mane and stick and knife held up in front of me, not sure what to do. He laughed that cackling dry cough of a laugh again as he threw a look over his shoulder and nodded towards me. "Looky here, Darlina, we found us a point Dexter," he laughed and I followed where he had been looking to find another younger redneck, cut off sleeves and all, perched atop the bed of a beat up old blue ford that also held a nice black motorcycle with a crossbow in his hands. He didn't reply to the man that had spoken, but instead squinted his already somewhat squinted blue eyes as he watched out for any other 'Walkers' that came close to us. His hair was longer and darker and instead of the smile that graced the other man's lips, he had a small scowl. My guess was from the nickname man number one called him.

"Quit fuckin' 'round, Merle. Get yer ass back in the truck," he stated barely casting me a glance as he hopped off the truck bed and to the ground.

'Merle' laughed again and looked at me as I was still silent with shock, gripping my weapons in my hands so hard my knuckles were white. "Looks like ya need some help, Darlin," he said to me and I turned my attention from the man near the truck to him, but not before looking around quickly to get a look at the people and Walkers that were still around. Still unable to speak coherently, I gave him a nod and he grinned before taking the gun in one hand and slinging his left arm over my shoulders as if we were best buddies all the while leading me back to the blue truck.

I opened my mouth to protest the fact that he wanted me to go with them, but was interrupted by a Walker suddenly popping up behind him over his right shoulder. Before either men could react or even shout my left hand that held my stingy little pocket knife swung around the lodged itself into the forehead of the undead human with a sickening crunch and squelch, spraying its blood all over the side of Merle's face. Pulling it out just as quickly the Walker fell to the ground behind us, Merle's arm left my shoulder as he took a step away and there was silence for a moment as I stared at the knife in my hand and the fresh blood that stained my fingers.

"Holy fuck," Merle cursed looking between the Walker and me with his lips parted in shock. A grin came to my lips and I laughed softly while looking at the knife again and then to Merle's shocked expression.

"Good advice. Thanks," I chuckled while lowering the knife to my side before skipping merrily over to the truck with Merle not too far behind. Before I was ready to say no, that there was no way that a single lonely white girl was going to get into a truck with a couple of rednecks, but given my current situation and circumstances being what they were, with the dead walking and all, my guess was that I was probably safer with them than any other person I could have possibly run into.

"What the fuck, Merle?" the other man grunted at the older man as we pulled ourselves into the front of the truck where he had already situated himself before the wheel. He was looking at me like I was some sort of bug you couldn't scrape off the windshield, but regardless tore away from the scene of dead and alive maniacs on the highway and made for a little side road in the trees just as soon as Merle's door slammed shut.

"Shut the fuck up an' drive, lil' brother," Merle grouched back. "Dexter here saved my skin; we're bringin' her with us." His little brother scowled and glared out the window as we sped away from the highway and I bit my tongue from preventing myself from pointing out that he had been bringing me to the truck before I had stabbed that Walker. It was obvious Merle was the ring leader and that his little brother just shut his mouth like he was told to as he drove. After settling the shot gun between his legs and silence filled the cab, I thought it best to break the awkward moment. It might have not been awkward for me, but I was pressed in the middle between two grown men that smelled like sweat and while one didn't seem to mind, I was feeling uncomfortable with the other leaning away from me while he drove like I had some sort of skin disease.

"My name's not 'Dexter'," I said finally, lifting my hands to make quotations with my fingers and rolling my eyes. "It's Max."

The driver let out a snort of amusement, but Merle full out laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd heard in years, hooting and hollering like a wolf baying to the moon and his rough voice making the sound almost painful to listen too. Just listening to it made me want to clear my throat. "Max, huh? That ain't no better," he laughed, his arm coming around my shoulders again all buddy-buddy-like as he shook me slightly.

"Yup," was my only answer as I was currently being jostled around by a man twice my muscle mass and a bumpy ride in a truck that seemed to have no suspension whatsoever.

"Well, _Max_," Merle laughed while holding out his right hand for me to shake. "I'm Merle Dixon. This here's my brother, Daryl." After we shook hands he pointed to the man driving, but he made no indication as to whether or not he was going to acknowledge the introductions at all. Which he didn't.

Merle smelled bad. Being crushed into his side as I was it was hard not to notice the odour of sweat, blood and whatever else on him. I suppose I couldn't really complain though, the guy had gotten me out of that shit hole for no reason other than maybe I looked as pathetic as I felt. Merle didn't seem the type to just dish out 'I'll save your ass' cards wherever he pleased, but somehow I was able to make him without even knowing it.

As we drove through the little paths that I'm sure you wouldn't be able to drive on if the world wasn't ending, we passed tree after tree and I wondered briefly where it was we were going, not even worried about the fact that there was a possibility they were taking me out to the woods to murder my sorry Canadian ass. I guess in the back of my mind I figured people were too worried about the dead walking around to even think about murdering the few that were still alive and coherent.

After a good twenty minutes of Merle jabbering on about god knows what, Daryl turned onto a little path that led to a clearing and stopped the truck. The brothers immediately vacated the vehicle and I followed with my knife and stick in hand as they started removing things from the truck bed. Backpacks, duffle bags, a cooler. God I hope they had beer in that cooler; I need a nice cold one after the shit I went through today. Without even saying a word I reached into the truck bed myself and hauled out a rather large bag that was goddamn heavy, but I was able to heave it over my shoulders as the brothers gave me long looks of curiosity.

Lifting an eyebrow back at them in challenge I heaved one of the straps higher over my shoulder for a better grip. I had dropped my chair leg in the process of wrestling the thing onto my back and had decided to just leave it there, it didn't do much anyways. "What?" I asked them as I hunched over, cursing silently as my thick framed glasses slid down my nose a little.

"Look at ya, already helpin' out an' shit," Merle snickered as he adjusted his grip on one of the cooler handles, Daryl already having the other end in his own hand. "She might actually be some use to us, lil' brother. Could turn her into a pack mule." Winking at his younger brother while Daryl just ignored him we moved into the trees.

I'm not stupid, I didn't miss the wink Merle sent at Daryl and I hoped to god I wouldn't have to sleep with one eye open tonight. Then again, even if I wasn't with them I'd most likely be sleeping with one eye open regardless. No one wants to wake up to their head getting chewed on. Not being vain or anything, but I'd prefer my face _attached_ to my skull, thank you very much. Is that too much to ask?

I stayed silent while we made our way through the trees until the brothers came to a little clearing just a bit smaller than the one we left the truck in and set down the cooler with a soft thud in the grass. Sighing with relief I allowed the bag I carried to drop somewhat roughly on the ground, rubbing at my sore shoulders. Daryl turned slightly to send me a glare and I was confused as to why at first until I saw him eyeing the bag I just dropped.

"Oh shit, sorry. Was there something valuable in there or something?" I asked hastily, worried I might have broken something, but when Daryl stepped forward to haul the bag up with one hand easily I felt my pride being bruised as he brought it over to the middle of the clearing and set it down almost gently with the others.

"Nah, ain't nothin' valuable in that there bag, 'less you think the tent an' Darlina's knife cleanin' kit is valuable," Merle snorted as he dragged a few of their bags over to where Daryl was currently removing items from the bags he had. "Ever been campin', Darlin'?"

"Oh hell yeah. Shit loads of times. We used to go every year for two weeks back home. I used to set up my tent in the back yard even so that I didn't have to deal with the heat in the house," I laughed, also moving over to help them set up the tent that turned out to be a pretty decent size. It wasn't one of those shitty two-man tents that claimed they could fit four. Clearly the makers of these things didn't know what 'fat' was.

The Dixon brothers looked at each other with slight surprise before Daryl turned and spoke directly to me for the first time. "Ever been huntin'?"

Shaking my head as I spread the tent out to be pitched I replied with, "No, but my dad used to. He did teach me how to shoot the 22 when I was younger and l spent most of my childhood shooting at beer cans with the pellet gun. Grew up around guns and knives my whole life. Can't say that my aim's perfect though."

The notable shock on their faces almost made me laugh as I started hammering the plastic pegs into the somewhat soft dirt under the tent. Clearly these guys weren't expecting that answer and why would they? Just looking at me one would think I was some innocent little bookworm that wouldn't be caught voluntarily around artillery. That was my sister, not me. Pausing slightly at the thought of my sister and wondering where she was at that moment I almost missed Merle's comment on the matter.

"Shoot," he said as I hammered in the last peg. "Here I was thinkin' we picked up a nice little piece of ass an' we end up pickin' up a goddamn country chick."

"_You_ picked her up," Daryl corrected as he assembled one folded up rod for the tent and I worked on the other. Glancing at me quickly he turned back to his brother and added. "I ain't dipping my dick in there if you are neither. Ain't fuckin' sharin' no pussy with ya."

"Excuse me?" I choked out as I barely contained my laughter. Though Daryl's last statement was mumbled I still heard it and instead of being offended I found it hilarious even as Merle got that glint in his eye at the prospect that he'd have me all to himself. Fucker better think again. "Look I appreciate you guys letting me tag along and everything, but nobody, and I mean _nobody,_ is dipping any dicks anywhere unless it's in a fucking tree knot. Got it?" Turning to Merle I pointed a finger at him, clutching the half put together tent pole in my left hand. "And don't even try to pull that 'I saved your ass, you owe me' bullshit. If I remember correctly I saved your ass too so we're even."

I half expected Merle or Daryl to freak out and get mad at me and tell me to leave, but instead Daryl just gave a half twitch of his lip as his brother outright guffawed, leaning back and staring at the sky as he did. "Ya got some kinda mouth on ya there, Dexter. Fiery little spit fuck, I like ya."

Laughing we went back to setting up the tent and getting camp together and for a moment I almost forgot that we were currently in the middle of an apocalypse. There were no zombies walking around eating people and no bombs falling on the city I had just spent the last two months cooped up in with my recently deceased friends, there was just me and the two brothers, sitting around a small ass campfire cooking some squirrel to eat for supper. I'd never had squirrel before, but hey, I wasn't about to turn down meat when the world was going to hell. Besides I didn't exactly see any cows around. So, I ate that squirrel that I had dubbed as Zippy and laughed at the somewhat shocked expressions from the two men as I did so without any hesitation or veiled disgust. It was survival of the fittest, you either eat the damn squirrel or you die, simple as that was how I saw it. Besides, the beer in my other hand complimented it nicely.

The evening progressed into night and the fire was put out as we retreated to the tent. Daryl wordlessly volunteered to sit outside the tent to keep an eye out for Walkers and I had thought of protesting at first, but by then he was already out of the tent and zipping it back up. Besides, I was bushed and if I tried to keep watch I wouldn't be able to guarantee that I wouldn't fall asleep and also all I had was my knife for protection so really there wasn't much I could do if I was on watch. Merle fell asleep no problem under the thin beige sheet he used as a blanket and snores slowly filled the tent as I too attempted to doze off. It took a while, but I eventually did nod off curled up under my own sheet at the other side of the tent from Merle. I might have trusted them to not touch me while awake, but who knows what they might attempt if I was asleep. I'm a heavy sleeper sometimes, but I'd definitely wake up if someone was touching my hoo-hoo. You can count on that.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't take me long to figure out that Merle was a drug head. And I mean a _major_ drug head. Want to know how I woke up in the morning? To the sound of him snorting cocaine off the tent floor practically right next to where I was sleeping, that's how. I was fast asleep, happy, peaceful even, and then I had to wake up to someone snorting like a bull in heat and satisfied moans. Groggily I had rolled over to find Merle hunched over next to me, straw in his nose and already lining up for the second row in front of him. I watched as he breathed in sharply through his nose, the white powder line disappearing then he leaned back with a satisfied sigh.

I wasn't quite sure what to do just then. It seemed Merle hadn't noticed my awakening yet and I wasn't sure if I should have made it known or if I should just discreetly roll back over and pretend to be asleep, but before I had the chance Merle's eyes that had previously been closed, opened and he shot me a smirk that I'm sure he thought was seductive or sexy in some way. Which it wasn't, just to be clear.

"Ya want some, girlie?" he chuckled, his already rough voice sounding more gravelly as he waved the straw in front of my face. Grimacing, I shook my head as I sat up and moved a little away from him while subconsciously gripping my blanket in my fist tighter than was necessary.

"No thanks," I grumbled out sleepily while I managed to pry one hand from the blanket to rub the sleep out of my green eyes. Truth be told the most adventurous with drugs I had ever been was with marijuana and though I had no issues with other people doing the harder stuff like meth and coke, I didn't choose to do it myself. Somehow scratching the shit out of my skin and turning paranoid was off putting to me.

Giving a shrug Merle tossed the straw over to the bag of his things he had carried into the tent with him last night and coughed once before turning his glassy doped up gaze towards me again. I watched him warily as he shuffled to sit on his rear, one leg being brought up to prop his elbow on as he unabashedly roamed his gaze over my bedraggled form. Even without my glasses, which lay on the ground on my other side, I could tell Merle licked his lips whenever his eyes crossed my chest which unfortunately was more often than I would have liked.

I wasn't the best looking girl; I knew that, being a little chunkier with muscle and fat than what was socially appealing. My hair was long and wild with waves that didn't know if they wanted to be straight or curly, my nose had an awkward upturn at the end, my eyes seemed too small for my face and although my teeth were straight thanks to two years of braces they weren't blinding white. I didn't have a flat stomach by any means, it was worse in high school believe me, but it was cancelled out fairly nicely due to being a little bit on the taller side and with my wider hips and a decent sized bust that unfortunately had grabbed enough attention from the wrong sorts of people with the wrong sorts of intentions and Merle Dixon was obviously no exception.

Feeling a little uncomfortable with his stare I shuffled a little farther away and reached out for my glasses to keep myself from fidgeting. When I had the dirty lenses in place I looked back at Merle who had, miraculously, lifted his eyes from my chest back to my face as he pointed at my thick rimmed glasses. "Ya look like a damn nerd with them things on yer face," he commented as he swayed, off balance even if he was sitting down already.

"Well, it's either wear them or go blind. Then again I guess that might be comforting when I'm being eaten alive," I snorted sarcastically as I deftly picked up and pocketed my knife and stood to head for the tent door. Being around Merle was making me very uncomfortable and I wanted nothing more than to get away from him and hopefully find something to do so that he wouldn't try to bother me. He didn't seem half bad yesterday when we had met, but now I saw what he was like when high and it just made me want to get the hell out of there.

Before I even made it three steps away from him Merle's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist in a vice-like grip causing me to stop short and look back at him. Although I felt my heartbeat speed up with fear I didn't allow it to show on my face as I raised an eyebrow in question at him and stared right back. Funny how I seemed to be so cool and collected when faced with Walkers, but as shaky as a leaf when up against higher than a fucking kite redneck.

Merle swayed in his seat again, but his grip didn't let up on my wrist and I was thankful that it wasn't strong enough to make it ache. If it was I might have been in for some deep shit. Staring at me with half open eyes and a leisurely smile on his face Merle finally opened his mouth to speak. "Ya got some nice titties there, Sweetheart. Mind if I have a little peek?" he drawled as his grip tightened just the slightest bit and began tugging me closer.

Immediately I pulled myself out of his grasp with a snort and took a few steps back towards the tent. Fuck, I should have listened to my conscience and not come with them into the wilderness. Now I was stuck here with a crazy hopped up redneck that could probably snap me in two faster than I could say pretzel and his brother who was god knows where.

"No can do, Merle," I laughed. I couldn't help it, laughter was my defense mechanism when I was scared, just ask anyone who'd ever watched a horror movie with me. Assuming any of them are still alive of course. Merle almost seemed to glare at me at my answer. "I stand by what I said last night. Nobody's sticking any dicks anywhere in this." At the mention of 'this' my hands lifted to gesture wildly, and awkwardly, to my body. My feet even joined the dance for some reason and I'm sure I ended up looking like I was trying to highland dance, but I figured I got my point across.

Before Merle could make another protest or even find the ability to stand I hauled ass out of the tent after unzipping the barrier as fast as I possibly could. I turned to zip it back up after without sparing Merle another glance as he swore and violently punched the pillow he just so happened to have next to him. I supressed a flinch at the action and retreated from the tent quickly, my head whipping around in search of the crazed man's brother.

It didn't take long to find Daryl as he was casually sitting only a few feet away on the opposite side of the put out fire from me with his one leg propped up as the other stretched out and he rested back on his hands behind him, crossbow resting peacefully at his side. His piercing blue eyes were already on me as he puffed at the cigarette that was currently placed between his lips and for once the scowl he held had me believing that it wasn't meant for me and instead for the man still swearing inside the tent. Quickly I made my way over to the other Dixon and sat down, making sure I was a good foot or two away from him with my legs crossed under me and a relieved sigh.

I had no doubts that Daryl had heard his brother's and my 'conversation' and I had no intentions of commenting on it either, but it surprised me when Daryl himself actually spoke up first. "Even more of an asshole when he's high, ain't he?" he asked quietly probably aware that Merle would be able to hear him though at the same time not really caring either.

I scoffed and picked up the stick we had been using as a stoker the night before and began poking at the ashes of what remained of our campfire. "Yeah, but as long as he doesn't try to get grabby or violent I could really care less," I replied with a shrug. "To each his own right? If he wants to do drugs and not have a clear head while fighting off the undead he can be my guest."

Daryl actually let out a small 'hah' at that as he was exhaling a plume of smoke, a small but still there smile gracing his lips. "Yeah, that's what I told him," he said and took another drag of the smoke before stubbing the butt in the dirt next to him. "Dumb bastard don't listen to me none so I said fuck it."

Laughing slightly I gave him a nod and dropped my stick back to the ground before bringing my arms back to rest my elbows on my knees. "I know a little of what that's like. Not easy being the youngest kid in the family, huh?" I chuckled. "I was the youngest of three and when my cousins came to visit I was the still the youngest out of six so I feel your pain."

The smile Daryl previously held disappeared then and he threw me another scowl, the corner of his lip curling up in a sneer. "Ya ain't know nothin'," he bit out then turned away from me to glare at the trees that surrounded our little clearing. My smile also fell at the unprovoked animosity and with shock written all over my face I held up my hands in defense.

"Holy shit, calm down. Jesus, I was just trying to make friendly conversation," I said offensively. Damn, I didn't even do anything and he just fucking bites my head off! Fuck you too, redneck.

"What if I don't wanna make conversation?" he growled back and I was pretty sure my face adopted the ever popular 'what the fuck?' expression as my hands splayed out to my sides in exasperation.

"Holy fuck, what is your problem?" I snapped, already tired of his attitude and how it seemed to change like a goddamn light switch. "You're the one who started the conversation. I was just being friendly._ You're_ the dumbass that got all PMS-y on _me._"

Really, I hadn't intended to be quite so rude, but he pushed my buttons and brought out the German side of me that loved a good argument. I watched as his glare moved from the trees briefly to me then back to the trees as he gave a huff. "Whatever," he grunted and then there was silence.

Well, silence between me and Daryl anyways. Merle, for the moment forgetting that there was a member of the opposite sex outside the tent, began singing some dirty country song that would make an old lady blush to her ear tips and stepped out of the tent without any clothing on. My jaw dropped in shock when I caught sight of him in all his glory with his scars, tan lines, hair and… _that_.

It was one of those times that you find yourself wanting to look away, but unable to just because of how ridiculously surprised you are. There he stood, legs spread to let his member dangle, arms held out to the side and his head thrown back as he belted out his song and the next the next thing I know I hear Daryl curse and am watching as the older Dixon brought his head back up to eye me with a smirk and started to shake his hips so that his rather large dick swayed back and forth to smack lightly against his thighs as if he was doing a dance for me. No wonder the guy had an ego the size of the sun; he _did_ have a rather impressive display.

Bringing my hand up to cover my mouth I couldn't figure out if I should laugh or scream out appalled by his extravaganza. I didn't have time however when Daryl, not moving from his spot beside me either, shouted at his brother much the same way he had the day before when they hauled my sorry ass into the truck.

"What the fuck, Merle? Put some damn clothes on an' quit singin'. Ya wanna ring the Walker dinner bell?" Daryl growled at Merle who continued to ignore him although he did stop singing as his smirk in my direction grew.

"Ya like whatchya see, Darlin'?" he rasped out while bucking his hips forward and licking his lips. "Bet ya wanna good taste of 'ol Merle, eh?"

Without thinking I let out a snort of laughter and was thankful that my hand covered my mouth to muffle the sound. Laughing at the man was probably the worst possible thing I could do as it would most definitely guarantee my position as Walker food, but I didn't know how else to react. I wasn't about to compliment the man, that would just encourage him. Any other sort of statement that flashed through my head was quickly thrown into an imaginary garbage can because it most likely would have sent the man in an angry frenzy. No matter what race or background they have, a man will _always_ be offended when it comes to their manhood.

Thankfully I was saved the trouble right away when Daryl suddenly jumped up from his spot and within minutes had wrestled his brother back into the tent, barking at him to 'get some fuckin' clothes on'. It almost seemed as if the roles were reversed and Daryl was actually the older sibling. When he remerged from the tent he sent me a look that almost seemed apologetic, but said nothing as he sat back down and blushed slightly, clearly embarrassed and barking mad from the situation his brother had put him in. Finally I allowed a small snicker to escape between my fingers and I held back tears of mirth when my hand dropped back to my lap. Daryl looked at me like I had grown two extra heads, probably wondering why I wasn't offended.

"Well," I forced out in my attempt to try and stop myself from laughing and provoking the man in the tent. "He's not shy, that's for sure. Oh my god, I don't think that's _ever_ happened to me before." A few guffaws were able to escape my efforts of reeling in my hysterical laughter and out of the corner of my eye I saw Daryl's confused expression.

"It don't bother you? What he just did?" he asked slowly as if he wasn't sure we were just witness to the same thing.

My laughter finally died when I removed my glasses to wipe at the few tears that had leaked out of my eyes, but a few giggles still made it past my lips. "No, it's more funny really," I said then took a deep calming breath to stop anymore giggles. "It's not the first time I saw a guy walking around with his dong hanging out. Alcohol and drugs can make people do some weirdly entertaining things."

It was Daryl's turn to give me the 'what the fuck' look and his ever present scowl deepened. I got the idea that that _might_ not have been the more appropriate thing to say. Great, the guy was going to think I was some sort of pimp or something now. "What exactly did ya do before all this?" he asked slowly as if he was scared of the answer.

"I was a starving student and waitress, sad as that is," I replied easily. It was quiet for a moment as I waited for him to ask me what I was going to school for, but he didn't. It wasn't much of a surprise really; Daryl didn't seem like the kind of person to care about that kind of thing. "What about you?"

Daryl grunted, but at my lifted eyebrow he elaborated. "Construction."

I snorted. "Figures."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he sneered at me and once again my hands rose in defense.

"Just saying that usually all the crabby antisocial people are either hands on labourers or computer geeks. I don't know why, but I just couldn't quite pin you as the computer geek type," I said sarcastically with a teasing grin as I winked at him playfully. He also had the toned muscles of a god, even if he was dirty and greasy, but I wasn't about to tell him that. Daryl just rolled his eyes and looked away back to the trees while my own eyes drifted back over to the tent as if I Merle would pop back out in nothing but his birthday suit again. Suddenly becoming serious I looked back at the younger brother. "Is he always like this?" Daryl didn't need to hear me vocalize who 'he' was, but when he turned back to look at me I still nodded my head in the direction of the tent.

After a slight pause he bobbed his head in a quick nod. "Yeah. Been hooked on that shit for years," he said absently while his hand lifted and he began chewing at his thumb.

I watched him for a few moments before gathering the courage to verbalize my thoughts. "Do you ever…?" I trailed off not being able to, nor really needing, to finish my question when Daryl turned a glare back at me.

"Fuck no. I ain't never touched that shit an' I ain't gonna neither," he spat out venomously as if the very thought of doing cocaine was like getting his balls chopped off, which was a good thing I guess. One coke head in the campsite was enough for my liking.

After that it wasn't a very busy day. A few Walkers managed to come across our little hideout but Daryl took care of them easily with the crossbow. I was obviously useless with my little piece of shit pocket knife and Merle was no better being passed out in the tent. I felt useless, but there was only one crossbow and the gun would be too loud to use outside of an emergency, and I'd bet my left leg that there was no way Daryl would even consider lending me his precious crossbow, so I sulked by the dead fire pit instead and watched in envy as Daryl defended our camp.

It continued like that for the next two to three weeks I was with the brothers as we constantly packed and moved along to different areas every few days in hopes that the Walkers wouldn't find us. Although it was Merle who made the calls for when we moved on it was Daryl that pretty much enforced them. I was always somewhere in the background with my stupid little knife and lack of defense skills aside from the ones that I fought off Merle's advances with. Not physically of course, the man would be able to beat my ass no problem, but verbally. I held my own against the crack/meth addict and though he was a sexist pig that only really wanted me around for something to look at and pinch every now and again, he was tolerable. Not to say that I liked the guy or anything, he was an asshole if I ever knew one, but he had the skills to help us survive when he wasn't high and I wasn't about to throw that all away just because I couldn't handle a little groping now and then.

Daryl's attitude towards me hadn't changed much over the course of the weeks though we stayed civil enough. Honestly the guy was just a hard shell to crack no matter how much humour or friendly banter I tried to bring him into. He'd always grunt like some sort of animal and stalk off so I learned that it was best to just shut up whenever we were together which ended up being more often than not. With only three people in our little group and one being a crazy drug head, it was hard not to stick to the side of someone who was actually sane.

As a result Daryl, no doubt to his annoyance, taught me how to skin and gut animals to prepare them to eat. I could tell he had been shocked at first when I didn't show any signs of disgust over the work, but I was a country girl that had been packaging deer meat in her father's shop when she was four and laughed during horror movies; it takes a lot to get me to gag no matter how bad the smell is. Daryl didn't complain about it though so I never said anything either. I didn't have a gun or any other notable skills that could help us so why not try to pull my weight by cutting up wildlife? The way I saw it, I was lucky the guys hadn't kicked me out yet because of my lack of weaponry or skills.

But then came the day that we ran into another group not too far from our last camp site. I was out with Daryl while he hunted as I often volunteered to carry whatever he caught and my only guess as to why he never stopped me from tagging along was because I actually stayed silent while he did his own thing. Also leaving me alone with a high Merle and having nothing really to protect myself with for hours on end was probably another factor that neither of us really wanted to think about.

We, actually Daryl, had already caught two squirrels and a jack rabbit when we came across an old man with a rifle wondering around in the trees. At first I had mistaken him for a Walker, but when I saw the gun in his hands I had to stop Daryl from shooting him by placing my hand on the top of the crossbow when he lifted it to aim. He had glared at me, but I was used to that by now and ignored it as I slowly approached the man.

When he had finally spotted us and thankfully hadn't shot us we, meaning me and the old guy, exchanged handshakes. His name was Dale as I later found out and he belonged to a group, but he didn't know the area that well and when he had gone out scouting had gotten lost. Then of course he had to eye Daryl's crossbow nervously and then his mouth practically began to water when he saw the squirrels and rabbit tied to a string over my shoulder. He asked if we were a part of a group and when he responded in the negative he had eagerly asked us to come back to the campsite with him. It didn't take long to convince Daryl that we needed a group and hardly ten minutes after accepting it we were taking Dale back to our camp to get Merle, pack up and head for the cliff the old man said they were situated on. Another hour later and we were joined with another group that had managed to make it out of Atlanta in time. It was a partially welcomed sight when entering the camp to see so many other people, but at the same time I couldn't help but frown when I saw the clothes lines. As a woman with no applicable skills, I had no doubt I'd be integrated into the housewives society and it didn't sit well with me. Laundry was the _last_ thing I wanted to do during an apocalypse.


	3. Chapter 3

As my luck would have it I really was stuck with doing laundry and cooking. Although I had cooked for the Dixons and myself after Daryl showed me the right way to cook over the fire I still hated it. I'd watch in envy as Daryl and Merle would accidentally wake me up when they left to go hunting in the mornings as I still shared a tent with them, much to the shock and suspicion of the other new group mates, and occasionally I'd receive the sexist remark from Merle that that was where I belonged anyway. I'd shoot him the finger and a grumpy 'fuck you' before he'd laugh and leave the tent with his brother.

Don't get me wrong, I liked a few of the people in the group we had joined such as Amy, a blonde girl who's sister's name was Andrea who turned out to be a bit of a bitch, Dale, the friendly old man me and Daryl had run into and Glenn, an Asian kid in his early 20's that was as much of a geek as I was. The others consisted of people I tolerated, didn't care to know –let alone talk to –and others that either pissed me off or annoyed me. As a result I stuck around the Dixons more than anyone else in the group and only socialized with them when I was forced to clean the boys' laundry and cook their food.

I'm not stupid either, I saw the looks everyone gave me whenever I came around and even though their attempts at conversation were always friendly, I could tell they were suspicious and perhaps even a little scared of my two tent mates. Honestly I couldn't blame them; Daryl and Merle were pretty scary if you thought about it. Daryl had the temper of a five-year-old sometimes and Merle was always hopped up on something and wanting to pick a fight with anyone when he wasn't making racist or sexist comments. What really pissed me off though was that they never thanked Daryl or Merle _once_ for the animals they hunted and brought back to the camp. Not _once_ did I hear a single 'good job' or 'awesome snag!' from anyone and it just set my veins on fire. The Dixons, Daryl mostly, worked their asses off to feed a bunch of ungrateful people that never so much as acknowledged their presence unless it was to whisper about them behind their backs. It made me sick.

Which is again why I mostly chose to hang back at our secluded little corner where we had set up our tent and the blue ford. It's funny how I now regarded everything that the Dixons shared with me as also being mine, but if I didn't then that would imply that I slept on the ground by Dale's RV or something.

It was one such day that I really got pissed off though and seriously considered avoiding Amy just because her sister was such a stuck up bitch. We were down at the little quarry not too far from the initial camp washing clothes when Andrea had to open her trap and start ragging about the Dixon boys who, thankfully, weren't there and currently out on a hunt. We had been silent for the most part, just me and Amy, but then Andrea had to come down and join us. At first it was fine, just making small talk, but then she had to mention the Dixons.

"Why do you hang around them so much, Max?" she asked while scrubbing away at someone's dirty pants. I myself only washed the Dixons' and my own clothes after some of the other women of the group had given me a few extra pairs of shirts, pants and underwear since I only had what I was wearing when the Dixons took me in.

"What do you mean?" I asked skeptically to Andrea's question even though I knew damn well who she was talking about as I rung out one of Daryl's shirts. "Hang around who?"

"Those Dixon boys," Andrea clarified and nodded toward the tent I shared with them that could just be seen at the edge of the camp. I narrowed my eyes at her, but Andrea's gaze was set on her work and didn't notice. "They're nothing but trouble. And that Merle guy does nothing but stare at your chest and sexually harass you. It's disgusting."

Feeling my temper rise and the need to defend the two rednecks come with it, my glare on the side of Andrea's head deepened. "They saved my ass and believe it or not I actually like them," I retorted with a huff and scrubbed a shirt I was currently cleaning a little too vigorously than was necessary.

"How can you like them?" Andrea scoffed causing me to pause in my work yet again and I met her stare with narrowed eyes. "They're rude and don't care about anyone but themselves. You at least attempt to socialize a little bit with the others, they don't."

"They care enough to feed all of you, don't they?" I spat back at her. "And did it ever occur to you that there are people that just _don't_ give a fuck about being around others?" I turned away from Andrea then and kept going with my scrubbing and rinsing, but my mouth just kept going. "Not everyone wants to be all buddy-buddy with everyone else. In case you haven't noticed, the world has fucking _ended_. That means survival of the fittest right? As far as I can tell, you people wouldn't have lasted much longer without them being here to hunt for you and yet all I ever hear from any of you about them are negative things. Does anyone care that they're more than likely still alive because of them? Apparently not!"

Finishing the last shirt with a splash, I rung out the fabric and tossed it into the bucket we used as a laundry basket and stood from my crouched position by the water ignoring the astonished looks from the two sisters. Heaving the tub of wet laundry up I left without another word and stomped back to mine and the Dixons' tent to hang our laundry on the rope we put up between a couple trees. I must have been louder than I thought down at the quarry because on my way back and while hanging laundry I didn't miss the sideways glances others threw me.

For the rest of the day I seethed in the hotter than hell tent I shared with the two men wanting nothing more than for them to get back so that anyone that came up to the tent to ask if I was alright would be scared away by a glare from Daryl or nasty comment from Merle. How wasn't I supposed to defend them? They were the closest things I had to friends now and the three of us knew that we had each other's backs over any of those sorry snots in the group.

Not to say I trusted them completely, but Daryl was proving himself to be a rather welcomed companion for me and though I couldn't say the same for him I'd bet anything that I was better company than a high as a kite Merle on the loose. He never protested whenever I sat next to him during supper as we ate apart from the rest of the group or when I would help him skin and gut the game after they came back from a hunt. Neither of us minded the comfortable silence we had gotten used to over the past few weeks or so we've known each other and though Merle was still a pain in the ass, at least I could rest easier at night now that there were other people around that could help if Daryl was off hunting and the older man got a little frisky.

Rolling over onto my stomach on the blanket I had claimed as my own with a sigh I attempted to at least get a small nap in before the guys got back. I was awarded no such luxury when I could hear Merle and Daryl enter the campsite not too far away. Merle was boasting about the hunt and how many squirrels they had caught loudly and almost immediately Shane, a former police officer, began reaming on him to keep quiet so as to not attract Walkers. Spiteful and insulting comments were thrown back and forth causing me to role my eyes even as Daryl managed to lead his brother over to our tent to dispel the pointless argument. It obviously didn't take long for Merle to switch gears from anger to happy as they approached our tent because he started to call out for me, purposely being louder to probably piss Shane off.

I didn't bother responding or turning over and opening my eyes as the door zipped open and I could hear footsteps enter the tent behind me. I could hear Merle's unmistakable snicker as his footsteps came closer. "Hot damn," he cooed and my eyes snapped open. "Looka that piece of ass, lil' brother. Just waitin' there for me." The comment was followed by a guttural hum from the back of his throat and just as I moved to glare at him, his hand connected with my left ass cheek and I let out a little yelp of surprise when the sound of the slap filled the previously silent tent.

Merle was laughing that annoying raspy laugh of his when I rolled over to glare daggers at him. "Fuck off, Merle," I growled before lifting myself to stand and leave the tent. Unfortunately, the much larger man was blocking my path and took advantage of that my sidestepping enough so that I was practically chest to chest with him.

"Hm… I'd rather ya fuck me. How's that sound, Sugartits? What so you an' me shake this little ol' tent up, huh?" he drawled and licked his lips as his eyes glued themselves to my breasts and he brought his hands up from his sides as he moved to place them on my hips, but I took a step back from him with a haughty glare. After what happened earlier at the quarry I was in no mood to put up with Merle's bullshit. Before I even had a chance to retort it was Daryl who spoke up.

"Leave her alone, Merle," he said as his head came into view at the entrance. "She ain't wanted to fuck ya from day one an' she still don't. Fuckin' give it up already." With that his head disappeared back outside and I gave Merle a smug look at his angry expression. I've been trying to tell the bastard that for a while and it just hasn't been getting through his thick skull.

Moving past the obviously high man I exited the tent and took my normal spot to Daryl's right where he was already busy skinning squirrels. Without a word I sat on the ground and picked up the knife he had already set out for me and picked up my own squirrel to skin but not before nodding a silent thank you to him. He returned the gesture with a slight tilt of his own head before we continued with our work in silence as we usually did. Merle didn't come out of the tent again for the rest of the day and for that I was thankful. After we were done cleaning the game we handed them off to the other women to cook and I didn't miss a beat in giving Andrea a meaningful stare. If she thought I was going to stay and cook with them after what happened earlier she could think again.

Until supper Daryl and I did as we normally did and sat around our own little campsite in silence. Daryl was smoking one of his last cigarettes while I absentmindedly sharpened a few sticks with one of the knives he had so kindly let me carry around. He had told me gruffly a while back that my pocket knife was shit and practically worthless and so had lent me a hunting knife to use instead. I had thanked him, but in true Daryl-like fashion he had merely grunted and replied with a 'whatever'.

I now used that knife to make little wooden stakes that I ended up also stuffing into my pockets every time I went down to the quarry. Protection wasn't guaranteed from the group when you were down at the quarry mainly because it was a bit farther away. It wasn't too far, but far enough so that if you were suddenly jumped by a Walker or two, help wouldn't come fast enough. The shavings of the stakes I made were used for kindling for the fire.

Supper came and went in silence, as usual, and we left Merle's plate beside his passed out form in the tent while we sat out by our own fire comfortably; Daryl taking his seat beside the tent and me sprawling out on the dirt on my back next to the fire. I liked when it got to nighttime even though the Walkers were normally more active at night. I mostly enjoyed it for the silence; there were no other group members milling about whispering conspiratorial things or mindless chatter and the clanking of pots and pans being washed, it was just peaceful silence. It reminded me of home where I would spend so many nights out on the front lawn with my sister just lying there in the cool soft grass and staring up at the stars without a care in the world.

It was the simple things in life like that that I missed the most and it made the tears I kept holding back come to the surface again and threaten to fall. I didn't let them though. Not only would my pride take a beating, but Daryl didn't seem like the type that would be comfortable around a crying woman and so I saved us both the embarrassment and blinked them away while clearing my throat. No use crying over a bunch of people that were probably dead anyway, I reasoned with myself. It's not like I could have done anything to prevent it, I mean, how was I supposed to know that the world was going to get overrun with zombies while on vacation? Then again if I was at home when all this happened I would have been able to raid dad's gun cupboard. I would have been loaded for months with all the shit that he had.

"Where ya from?"

I jumped slightly at Daryl's voice breaking through my thoughts, initially surprised that he had been the first to speak. Normally conversations started when I brought something up or Merle was being a pain in the ass. It was when I finally processed the question in my brain while looking over at his expectant gaze that I realized I had yet to answer.

"Manitoba," I replied somewhat stiffly, still a little put out that he had spoken first. I watched as his brow wrinkled and had to supress a laugh at his confused expression.

"Where the fuck is that?" he ground out.

Unable to hold my laugh in I let out a small chuckle. "It's a province smack dab in the middle of Canada," was my response and Daryl's confused features twisted to turn into surprise.

"Yer Canadian?" he asked shock still evident as he stared across the dwindling fire at me.

Rolling my eyes with a teasing smile I shook my head at him. "No, I'm Hungarian," I shot back sarcastically as I heaved myself up to lean on my elbows. The dirt bit into my skin, but I ignored it.

"The fuck you doin' in the States? Georgia's a long way from the border," he grumbled, his eyes averting from mine to stare at the ground as he bit at his thumb. I learned a while back that if Daryl was in deep thought or was uncomfortable he'd bite at his thumb nail. It must have been an old habit from his childhood or something, but I never dared to ask.

Disregarding my own curiosity I replied to his question with, "I was visiting some friends that had moved here a few years ago for the summer. I was actually a week away from leaving when all hell broke loose." Sighing, I shifted to lay back down on the dirt, not even caring about the dirt and leaves that would get tangled in my hair.

"I ain't seen nobody with ya when me an' Merle picked ya up," he said softly, as far as Daryl could possibly get for gentle, probably already knowing the answer to his unasked question. The wistful smile I had on my face slowly faded as I fixed my eyes on the stars through my lenses and another sigh seeped past my lips.

"That's because they didn't make it," I mumbled back and was thankful when Daryl didn't ask for the details. I probably would have broken down into tears if he had and neither of us wanted that.

But now that it was brought up, the events that occurred before our meeting kept playing and repeating in my mind. Tiffany and her husband Josh were good people, honest people, with two kids named Clair and Ben. Tiff had brown hair similar to the shade of mine, but it was less wild and straighter, Josh was blonde and always had a smile on his face with a sparkle in his eye. Their kids, god their kids were the perfect mix between the two of them and absolutely gorgeous. Before visiting them I had only seen pictures and each time I looked at them it just made my heart melt.

I wanted kids, of course, but that required me being married, preferably, and to be married you'd first have to have a fiancé, and before that a boyfriend. I hadn't had a boyfriend in years and although I did enjoy my solitude to do all the nerdy and geeky things I liked, it did get a little lonely. At 25 I had already lost hope to find Mr. Right and now with the dead walking around and multiplying like cockroaches under a rock there was no chance I'd find him now.

But Tiff and Josh… They had it made. Tiff was becoming successful in her fashion designing career and Josh had been a chef at some classy place in uptown Atlanta. They were the nicest people one would ever hope to come across, and ultimately that had been the cause of their end. Clair and Ben were thankfully away from the whole ordeal and spending the weekend at Josh's mother's at the other end of town. We were walking back to the apartment from the grocery store when hell started breaking loose on the streets. We had heard of the infection just days before, which is what prompted Tiff and Josh to send their children away so that they could go with their grandmother to whatever safety that might be provided, but we hadn't expected it to get so bad so fast. Not much about the things walking around were known and as such, we were naïve to the procedures on how to contract whatever it was or prevent it.

And like the naïve people that we were we had absolutely no idea that one bite could change everything.

As I had mentioned earlier we were walking back to from the grocery store when it happened. Tiff and Josh's neighbors had been standing outside their house when we got back and at the time we had no idea that they were infected and already dead. We learned soon enough when both Tiff and Josh and stepped up to ask their neighbors if everything was alright when they were jumped on by the couple now obviously sickly looking. I had stood back away from the four as I figured it wasn't my business and looking back now I'm glad I was that far away. Groceries were dropped to the ground and scattered across the driveway and screams were echoed down the street. It had taken me a while to realize that I too was screaming and that my two friends were getting bit into arm and leg by their crazed neighbors.

Somehow, Josh managed to push his attacker off then freed his wife before the three of us dashed into their house and locked the door. They were both bleeding profusely and breathing heavily from adrenaline as we situated ourselves in the living room. I had done my best to clean up their marks and dress them with what little medical supplies they had in the bathroom all the while letting the tears stream down my cheeks. Fear for them and what would happen ever present in my mind. We didn't even bother trying to call the police as it was obvious the people that had attacked weren't actually people anymore and dead people walking around wasn't exactly the police department's forte.

In the end the patch job I'd tried so hard to do had all been for nothing. They both got fevers, they both slowly died and I bawled my eyes out for the next few hours in the other room, wailing for the loss of my friends. And then when I had enough sense to think clearly again I had exited the room and made for the kitchen to finally call the police just because I didn't know what else I could do only there was one problem. My previously dead friends were up and walking again, watching me as I entered the kitchen and fear froze me in my place. I had managed to pull out my pocket knife fast enough to slice at Tiff's throat when she came at me, but had to dodge at the last second to avoid Josh. Both had gotten back up and the only thing I could grab next in my desperation was one of the wooden kitchen chairs. I had taken hold of one of the legs and used all my strength to bash it over their heads, the chair leg staying in my grasp before I made a mad dash for the backyard and eventually out of the city where I met the Dixons on the highway.

Shaking my head, I brought myself out of the painful memory, glancing at the fire smouldering next to me and catching Daryl's eye. He was staring at me, looking somewhat uncomfortable as he nibbled at his thumb and it was then that I realized that tears were streaming down from the corners of my eyes. Looking away from him my hands quickly came up to wipe the tears away before I stood and cleared my throat in embarrassment. Brushing the dirt off my pants and back as best as I could I still refused to look at him as I made my way to our tent.

"I think I'll hit the hay," I mumbled to him while unzipping the door. "'Night, Daryl."

I didn't expect him to reply and even if he did I would have been too distracted with my thoughts to hear it so when he entered the tent not long after I had settled stiffly under my blanket I began to relax. I always felt uncomfortable when I was alone in the tent with Merle whether he was sleeping or not, but always felt safer when Daryl was there knowing he wouldn't let his brother try anything while I was vulnerable. Allowing a soft sigh between my lips I squirmed a little to get more comfortable and it wasn't long before I drifted off into a long dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days passed in a blur of frustration and annoyance. Apparently after my hissy fit with Andrea the day before it was like the flood gates had opened with a huge ass sign inviting any and all to come to me with a belittling comment about the Dixons. A few things were said bluntly and others were bathed with sickly sweet concern, but it all started to get on my nerves regardless. I couldn't understand why no one had any faith in the two men; obviously they were decent enough people to not have harmed anyone, but no one seemed to give a shit about the good that they had done and instead focused on everything negative. Often my final words at the end of those conversations was a frustrated snap of 'fucking Americans!' before walking away.

What was worse was that Daryl never said anything about it even though I _knew_ he heard the things being said about him, his brother and even me around camp. It was like he was used to it. Merle wasn't shy about letting his opinions, as unneeded as they were, known and that was the main reason why the other two of us were always in such hot water with the rest of the group. I honestly believed that if Merle wasn't there that Daryl and I would be just fine with the rest of the group, but there was no way I was going to petition or even suggest to Daryl that we kick his brother out. My hard earned spot as his somewhat friend would be thrown out the proverbial window and besides, as much as Merle wasn't the most welcoming person to be around I still thought of him as a friend. A very nasty, sick and annoying as all hell friend.

But here, let me repeat a few of the questions and statements that I heard on a daily basis. The ones that tended to make me want to open a fresh can of whoop-ass.

Shane: "I really think you should get your own tent, Max. Now, I know I don't know you very well at all, but I'd still feel better if I didn't have to worry about what those Dixons might be doin' to you every night."

My response: "They don't do anything to me. Merle is a little handsy, sure, but Daryl hasn't done anything. Ever. And I don't expect him to. Neither of them have touched me in any way you need to worry about, Shane, and even if they did, don't you think I'd put up a fight? Do you see any fucking bruises? Or cuts? Didn't fucking think so."

Needless to say, that wasn't a short conversation. Shane has a short temper, like mine and the Dixons', and he always tried to throw the authority he thought he had around just because he used to be a police officer and was currently reaping the rewards of banging his dead best friend's wife. It was never said out loud, but I could hear the moans from the trees sometimes that the others never could because they weren't as secluded as we were. And besides, it was hard _not_ to miss the seductive glances and the constant sneaking off to shag.

Dale: "Those boys… they're not the friendliest of types. Do you really think they can be trusted?"

My response: "They've proved to be so far. I was with them for almost a full month before we ran into you. Does it look like they've fed me to Walkers? They might not be friendly, but you have to be an asshole sometimes in order to survive. Honestly, I think it's worked in their favor."

Although Dale was a friendly old fart with good intentions he obviously didn't know when to keep his nose out of someone else's business. I saw him, skulking around whenever he wasn't on top of the RV, talking to everyone, wanting to know everything that was going on, what the plans for the day were. As comforting as it should have been for someone to waste so much of their time and energy in worrying over your wellbeing, I thought it was unnecessary. Either suck it up or die; that was the way of the world now.

Glenn: "Don't those guys scare the shit out of you? I mean, whenever I talk to them it's like hitting a brick wall. I always get glared at."

My response: "Daryl's just cranky like that, I think. I've been getting glares since day one and it hasn't bothered me too much. Merle's a racist prick so that's why he probably doesn't like you and to be completely honest I'd probably be receiving the same treatment if I didn't have boobs. But I have a feeling that's just the way they were raised. As far as I can tell though Daryl isn't anything like his brother."

Glenn didn't seem to like that answer and had continued to ask me why I stuck around them if Merle was such an ass and I had shrugged, replying that they had A; saved my ass more times than I wanted to count and B; they weren't too bad to be around once you got to know them, especially Daryl. I enjoyed their company and they enjoyed mine, to a certain degree, and that was all that mattered to me. That conversation hadn't lasted long thankfully because we had started to talk about Star Wars to relieve the tension.

Lori: "I don't feel safe letting Carl and the other kids run around while those Dixons are around. Since coming to camp they've done nothing but scare the group to death."

My response: "Jesus, they're not murders. Do you think I'd still be here if they were? They're not going to hurt the kids, Lori, hell they avoid them like the fucking plague. The group's only scared of them because all of you are ignorant and don't know how to survive like they do. Just because something, or someone, is different it doesn't give you the right to bash them like spiteful teenagers at the prom."

More words were exchanged as Lori tried to put words into my mouth and I did my best to defend the two men that had been keeping my ass safe. She said things like 'you can't honestly think they care about you?' and 'you're only there for their entertainment.' The argument continued like that until Carol had come down to the quarry all quiet-like, a fresh bruise forming in the shape of a hand print on her right wrist. I had glared at Lori in disgust then mumbled to her as lowly as I could. "If you're going to be worrying about anyone, it should be her," I hissed nodding my head in the direction of the other woman. "And that little girl, Sophia. It's obvious her husband abuses her and possibly the kid too. If you want to condemn anyone, condemn _him_." That had shut her up fast enough.

As you can imagine, Lori and I didn't quite get along. I found it ridiculous that everyone could turn a blind eye to the abuse that happened right under their noses and yet were able to talk about the Dixons like they were nothing more than savage animals. If it boiled down to it and nothing about Ed was going to be done, I had half a mind to nab Daryl's knife he gave me or one of my mini wooden stakes and take care of the problem myself. The only thing that was stopping me was the fact the man was twice my size and that I wasn't too comfortable with killing someone that was still alive. With no justice system though, measures had to be taken eventually, I just hoped it wasn't me that had to carry out the dirty work. I'd do it if I had to, but I wanted to avoid it as best as I could.

It was because of those conversations that I finally decided to spend the day at our tent to avoid everyone else. Part of me was glad no one came near it in fear of the Dixons, even when they were out on the hunt, and it gave me the peace I craved to just sit, shave some sticks, fold some laundry or relax in the chair we had outside the tent that Daryl practically claimed as his own. Hell, it even smelled like him; like campfire smoke, nicotine and sweat. To anyone else, it might smell gross, but I found it oddly comforting.

As I settled in the chair with a soft sigh I could hear Merle's snore echo from the inside of the tent. Grimacing slightly at the fact that he was still here and not in the bushes as I came to expect I wondered if Daryl had maybe gone out on his own today as it was already close to noon. I opened my eyes when I heard footsteps approaching the tent, frown already set in place and ready to tell whoever was coming to screw off, but when I caught sight of the younger Dixon my lips curved into a smile that he didn't return. He lifted an eyebrow at me, but didn't comment on the fact that I was in his self-appointed chair.

Nodding to the tent his eyes didn't leave me. "He still sleepin'?" he asked and I nodded, not even bothering to speak when I saw Daryl roll his eyes and moved to sit on the dirt a few feet away from me, a scowl coming to his face. "Guess there ain't gonna be any huntin' today. Gonna have to wait 'till tomorrow." Dropping his crossbow next to him he ran a hand over his face, his frown still present.

After a slight pause and nervous finger twiddling on my part I finally spoke. "Could I come with you tomorrow?" I asked slowly and watched as his eyes returned to mine in veiled surprise and when he didn't answer for a while and just stared at me instead I leaned forward in the chair, my expression turning desperate. "Please? I've been cooped up in this damn camp ever since we got here and everyone's starting to really piss me off." Daryl still remained silent, his eyes drifting away in thought, his jaw setting. "Come on. You know I'm not completely useless. It'll be just like before and you won't hear a peep from me. Please, I'm fucking _dying_ here." By now I was practically begging.

"Alright! Christ, woman," he finally grumbled in agreement and I gave him an ecstatic grin in return. Growling in annoyance he stood up, his eyes avoiding mine as he moved over to the door of the tent. "We get up early. If ya ain't up when I'm ready to leave then-"

"'I'm leavin' yer sorry ass here'," I interrupted him, lowering my voice and changing my accent mockingly even though he threw me a glare. I could see the hint of amusement in his eyes even if he didn't want to show it. Laughing softly I grinned at him. "Relax. I know the drill. I'll be on time, don't worry."

"I ain't worryin' 'bout shit," he grumbled as he entered the tent. My laugh followed him as he went, despite his sour attitude. If I wasn't used to it by now then there was something wrong with me. Or maybe there was something wrong with me because I was used to it. Either way, I wasn't fazed in the slightest.

Daryl didn't spend a long time in the tent; I could hear him shuffling around a bit, the sound mingling with Merle's snoring, until he remerged with a few sheathed knives and a machete. I also noticed his knife cleaning kit with him, the small bag slung over his shoulder as he stood in front of me with his eyebrow raised.

I raised mine right back with a teasing smirk and didn't move. I know he wanted his chair and for some reason I was feeling giddy and playful despite my shitty day so far. Maybe the prospect of going hunting in the morning instead of laundry had me so excited that I felt the nerve to actually kind of _flirt_ with Daryl. Hell, I even briefly began to wonder why I hadn't started sooner until he glared at me and I let out a little snicker.

"Fine, I'll move. God, you're like a teenage girl wanting the computer all the time. Ever hear of sharing?" I joked as I hoisted myself from the chair and promptly took a seat on the dirt next to it with my legs folded beneath me. Daryl didn't answer for a while as he placed his various knives all in their own separate sheath on the ground in front of him along with his kit.

"I share my damn tent, don't I?" he bit back though I could see the slight smile on his lips. "An' my knife. By the way, it needs a good sharpenin'." At that he tossed me a little device that I wasn't sure I knew the exact name of, but recognized it from my dad's collection back home. I was a knife sharpener thingy.

Throwing Daryl a sideways glance I took the knife I had borrowed from him from its holder that I had attached to my belt and started running the blade through without a word. Daryl grabbed his own sharpener and picked up the machete from the ground, removing its casing before beginning to sharpen its long blade with ease. We sat like that in the comfortable silence we had become accustomed to until both of us were done with our respective weapons. Silently Daryl inspected the machete in his hands, running the pad of his calloused thumb across the newly sharpened blade. I was worried for a moment that he might cut himself, but he never did.

Then he reached out for my knife and I handed it to him to inspect it the same way he had done with the machete. When he was done he set the knife on his lap before putting the machete back into its casing and instead of handing me the knife I had previously been borrowing he held out the sheathed machete to me. Slowly I reached out to take it with confusion, but I didn't have a chance to ask when he spoke.

"Gonna need a bigger weapon than just a knife," he clarified, already knowing what my confused expression was caused by. After I had taken the machete he lifted the knife that I had already practically claimed as my own from his lap and held that out as well. Taking it with my brow lifted in question at him I put it back into its respective casing still attached to my belt. Laying the machete across my lap I returned my questioning eyes back to him. He looked back at me for a moment until his shoulders lifted in a shrug. "In case ya lose one."

Snorting slightly I picked up another knife from the pile and took it out of its case to sharpen as Daryl did the same. I hadn't really realized just how many knives were there initially when he had first brought them out and I didn't know if they were all just his or Merle's too. For the next little while we sat there, barely making conversation, and sharpened the weapons to Daryl's idea of perfection. The silence we created was only interrupted by the soft 'shink' of the blades sliding through the devices.

When we were nearly done Merle finally emerged from the tent and looked like hell. I wanted to comment on that fact, but thought better of it. The few other times I had spoken up on how he looked like he had just gone through a blender I had to either duck a fist or endure getting spit in my face while a red-faced Merle yelled only inches away from me. I learned early on not to piss off Merle when he was coming down from his high.

I ignored the man when he exited the tent, only glancing at him quickly once more before returning to my work as he zipped up the doorway. When he was facing us again I heard a low whistle come from him. Beside me, Daryl paused in his sharpening as I continued trying to ignore Merle's presence.

"Mm mm mm… Ain't that a sexy sight. Just turns me on," Merle hummed and I finally stopped what I was doing to look up and give him a glare. Licking his lips once he proceeded to tuck his bottom one between his teeth and stare at me and the knife I currently had half pulled through the sharpener. Turning his attention to his brother for a moment, Merle sent him a smirk. "Somethin' 'bout a woman doin' a man's job just gets me all tingly."

Rolling my eyes I pulled the knife the rest of the way through the sharpener before pointing it at Merle. Though the action probably didn't look very intimidating due to the height Merle had on my sitting position I gave him the most threatening glare I could muster. "Keep talking, Merle, and I'll cut off that pecker that's tenting in your pants," I threatened.

"Max…" I heard Daryl warn beside me.

Merle let out a wheezing laugh before stooping to crouch in front of me, arms resting on his bent knees and his hands dangling between them, the blade of the knife I held now aiming at his cockily smirking face. My hand didn't shake nor did my glare waver. I had been around Merle long enough by now that he didn't scare me when I was the one with the weapon. If the bastard had a gun _then_ I'd be scared.

"Ya sure ya know how to use that there thing, Dexter?" he taunted, his blue eyes flickering to the knife quickly as his tongue shot out to lick his bottom lip then he looked back into my green eyes. As he breathed the air was pushed at my face and I had to supress my grimace at the smell. God, it was worse than the damn squirrel guts.

But of course being me, I couldn't control the filter from my brain to my mouth and in the next moment I was returning a smug smirk back at him. "You should be asking yourself that, numb nuts," I shot back using the knife in my hand to gesture to his obvious erection that was tenting in his cargo pants. Merle's smile fell and was replaced with an angry sneer. I heard Daryl swear and the next thing I know there was pain in my left cheek, my glasses jarring and being pulled crookedly away from my face slightly and Merle was being wrestled to the ground by his younger brother.

He slapped me. That son of a bitch fucking slapped me! I could feel the sting on my cheek as I shuffled away from the fight that Daryl clearly had the upper hand in and put my hand to my cheek in shock after fixing the placement of my glasses as I watched them hash it out. It didn't take long for Daryl to hoist his shouting brother from the dirt and push him out towards the trees with a good shove. Merle still panted and growled like a rabid dog, never once looking at me and instead glaring at his brother who stood his ground breathing heavily. After a short battle of the glares the older Dixon was stomping off into the trees muttering angry words to himself.

"Go rub it out, ya dumb fuck!" Daryl called after him before turning to look at me. Others from the camp had heard the commotion and came running, Shane in the lead, but thankfully no one had seen what had actually happened to start the fight. Removing my hand from my probably red cheek before anyone could notice I stood to dust off my pants as Daryl came up next to me, his eyes asking a silent question. Shaking my head I bent to pick up the knife sharpener, the knife I had dropped and some of the others that lay scattered still in the dirt.

"What the hell happened?" Andrea gasped, probably annoyed that no one else had asked already or that Daryl and I hadn't said anything yet.

"Merle got a little cranky, but it's under control," I replied nonchalantly, not missing the glance Daryl threw at me as I looked up to the other group members that had come to our tent. There was Shane, Dale, Andrea and Glenn and all were looking at me as if I were crazy.

"Oh my god, what the hell happened to your face, Max," Glenn exclaimed as he stared at the redness that had invaded my otherwise somewhat tanned cheek.

Thinking quickly I brought up my hand to scratch at the still tender area, successfully covering my cheek from their view as I laughed. "What this? Don't worry about it; it's just my eczema acting up. That's all," I replied, removing my hand from my cheek and waving it at them while shaking my head. The others gave me sceptical looks, but seemed to accept it as one by one they retreated back to what they were doing before the fight broke out.

Hardly sparing Daryl a glance I carried the knives I had in my arms back into the tent without a word, the man picking up whatever else that was left as he followed me inside and I waited for Daryl to place his things down so I knew where to put them before following suit. After placing the weapons where he wanted I took back the machete and placed it over by my blanket all the while neither of us spoke, but I knew his eyes were on me, or my cheek rather, as I moved. When there was nothing else for me to busy myself with I met Daryl's gaze dead on, raising an eyebrow.

"Why would ya do that?" he asked quietly, his stare never leaving even as his thumb came up to his lips to be gnawed at. Briefly I pondered again if maybe it was a nervous habit as well as an 'I'm thinking really hard' habit.

Shrugging at his question I let my eyes fall from his almost embarrassedly. "Do what?"

"Ya know what," he snapped back and I sighed, lifting my head back up while my hand rose to rub at the back of my neck.

"If they knew he hit me that would be it for you guys. If they wouldn't kick the both of you out of the group it would just be him and then you'd follow because he's your brother and you guys need to stick together," I explained with a sigh as I looked him in the eye again and gave a slight chuckle. "Call me selfish, but I want, actually need, you guys to stay. Without you I'd be forced to socialize with those people more than I already have to and we need you to feed us and we need the strength a group provides. You guys leave and that's all blown to hell."

Daryl was silent while I spoke and gave no indication that he was going to speak anytime soon. He just looked over me, his eyes constantly being drawn back to my cheek, his teeth nibbling at his thumbnail.

"That hurt?" he asked finally in a mumble around his thumb that was still at his lips as he stared at my cheek.

"Yeah, but it'll be fine. Stings a bit, but that's no biggy," I shrugged and watched as Daryl nodded before he practically dashed out of the tent. Sighing I turned to look at the knives we sharpened then at my blanket and flat pillow I had stolen from the RV.

Grumbling slightly I moved over to my makeshift bed on the floor of the tent next to Daryl's cot and lied down. I might as well take a nap before supper so that I'd be well rested to go out in the morning with Daryl. There was no way I was going to stay at camp all day tomorrow with all the questions I was bound to receive after what happened today.


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl and I trudged through the bushes the next morning as quietly as we could. Conversation was practically non-existent between us as it normally was and I actually liked it that way. Merle was the big talker of our little group and though I had no problem making friendly back in the old world and talking to any and every person I met, that wasn't the case now. Even back then I liked my solitude and quiet time to myself. Being around Daryl gave me that happy mixture of alone time and company. I liked it. It was refreshing.

In front of me Daryl suddenly halted and I followed suit, setting the foot I had just lifted to make a step back down as quietly as possible in the crunchy leaves. Daryl glanced back at me and nodded briefly before he lifted his crossbow to take aim. I didn't know if it was a squirrel or a Walker, but just to be safe I tightened my grip on the machete I held in my right hand as my eyes scanned the trees around us. We hadn't had a Walker up this far yet since we had joined the group two weeks ago and I was hoping it was going to stay that way.

I heard the click of Daryl's arrow being released from his crossbow before the thud that followed as the squirrel hit the ground only a few feet away. I allowed my shoulders to relax as a breath of relief escaped my lips and I followed the hunter as he made his way to the fallen creature. He pulled out the arrow from the poor thing's stomach and snapped its neck as I came up beside him already holding out the rope that was hanging over my shoulder for him to tie it to. Without a word from either of us he secured the rodent and we were on our way again.

I couldn't be too sure how far away from camp we were, but I didn't bother to ask Daryl either. It was already getting on towards evening and we had yet to turn back the way we came so it was my guess that Daryl planned on spending the night out here. It made me a little nervous, but I trusted Daryl a lot more than I trusted any of the others in camp, except for maybe Morales and Glenn and since both of them were making a run into the city with Merle, Andrea and T-Dog today for more supplies I definitely felt safer with the redneck in his natural element.

By the time we had ten squirrels tied to the rope it was getting close to sunset and I knew for sure now that we weren't making it back to camp tonight. Daryl seemed to pick up on my glances back to the way we came because he stopped and waited for me to catch up from my good ten paces behind him. Tapping the side of my machete on my leg absently I shrugged at him before looking up at the canopy of trees above us.

"I take it we're not heading back to camp tonight," I stated then looked to the man next to me who shook his head in return, his eyes also being drawn upwards for a moment before he replied verbally.

"Nah, still ain't got enough to feed everybody," he gestured with his hand towards the rope of squirrels over my shoulder then turned to look at the leaf covered ground around us. I obviously couldn't see anything, but he knew how to track so I let him do his thing. But I was surprised by his next words. "We ain't the only ones out here neither."

My eyes widened as I watched his calculating gaze scan the ground expertly. "Walkers?" I asked after a moment, hoping the answer would be no.

Again Daryl shook his head; eyes never leaving the forest floor as he began following an invisible trail with me close behind. One of his hands left his crossbow to point at the ground as we walked. "These footsteps are side by side, see?" he asked still pointing to the ground and I nodded when he quickly glanced at me though I was completely blind to what he saw. To me it was just a bunch of mussed up leaves and twigs. "Walkers ain't coordinated enough to walk a straight line. Whoever left these is still livin'." His outstretched finger then swept up drawing an imaginary line in the air along the trail we were on before he gripped at his crossbow again.

"As far as we know," I commented dryly and Daryl threw me one last glance before we both fell silent again.

Twenty minutes later found us approaching a small blue two-man tent in a small clearing just as the sun was getting closer to setting and darkness started to creep up on us. As we came closer to the tent Daryl held up a finger to his lips and I nodded back in understanding. The tent door was half opened and one of the poles had come loose from its sturdy position causing the corner of the tent to be collapsed. There was a splatter of something inside the tent that I had no doubt was blood, but otherwise there was nothing to indicate that anyone was there.

As Daryl and I came up closer to the tent we held our weapons at the ready, muscles tense and ready to react if we had to. Briefly, he turned to me with a nod and I returned the gesture before I slowly came around next to the tent door as he aimed his crossbow at the entrance. The smell that came from the tent was horrendous and I held my breath half for that reason and half for the anticipation I felt stirring in my gut. Holding my machete tightly in my slightly sweaty hand, my other reached out to grasp at the dangling corner of the tent door. I gave one last look to Daryl before he nodded and I pulled back the flap.

A moment of tense silence passed before Daryl lowered his crossbow with a relieved sigh that matched my own. Inside the tent was the body of a dead man sprawled over a blood covered sleeping bag, his head sporting a few days old bullet hole. Beside him was a revolver sitting in a pool of dried blood and I didn't waste time in entering the humid stink of the tent to retrieve it. Daryl didn't stop me as he followed me inside to look over the sorry fuck that had blown his brains out.

Both of us crouched on either side of the deceased man, me doing my best to wipe off the dried blood and brain matter from the gun on my pants and Daryl turning the man over to get a good look. The smell was terrible, but neither of us gagged though we did curl our lips in disgust at the messy scene and putrid stink. Daryl lifted limbs and pieces of cloth on the man's form before shaking his head with a sigh.

"Poor bastard got bit," he said finally when I had eventually decided to give up trying to clean the gun and inspect it instead. Looking back over to the corpse I watched as Daryl pulled the collar of its shirt away to reveal a large chunk of its shoulder ripped out. How the guy had managed to set up his tent and put his shit inside while in that sort of pain was beyond me. "Must've taken himself out knowin' he'd turn."

Turning my attention back to the gun I pulled back the hammer and pushed out the chamber, sighing when I saw it was empty. Shaking my head I flicked the chamber back in and released the hammer. "Used his last bullet to do it too. Smart guy," I added before looking around the tent with a frown as Daryl nodded. The sky was getting pretty dark, the trees adding to the darkening shadows. Looking back at Daryl I shrugged. "Do you think we should stay here tonight? The stink of the tent might ward off any Walkers that might come by."

Nodding again Daryl too looked around the tent. It wasn't my idea of cozy, no one wanted to sleep in a tent with a rotting corpse that had brain and blood all over the inside, but it was the fact that the smell might keep us from becoming Walker treats that made the idea appealing. Sleep probably wouldn't come easy with the smell, but it was better than being an open target.

"Yeah," Daryl mumbled as he bit at his thumb in thought. "We could move him outside so we have room. Sleepin' bag too. I ain't sleepin' in no dead man blood."

I snorted. "Me neither." Gripping the handle of the revolver still in my hand I stood and moved out of the tent with Daryl close behind. Bringing my hands back behind me when I was completely straight I used one to pull out the back of my jeans while the other shoved the barrel of the gun between my skin and the waistband. The belt I wore, that I had actually stolen from Daryl, made it a little difficult, but if I removed it then my pants would have fallen down. Over the month and a half since the outbreak I had lost some weight and though I would have been happy about it on any other day, it also meant I had less fat to keep me warm during the night.

When I turned around back to the tent to help Daryl drag out the body he was staring at me and it caused me to blink in surprise. He had already set down his crossbow on the ground outside the tent and a slight scowl graced his features. Lifting my eyebrows in a 'what's that look for?' look he lifted his hand in a gesture in my direction.

"What the hell you keepin' it for? Ain't no bullets in it," he grumbled in reference to the gun I had just stuffed in the back of my pants. Giving him a shrug I crouched again to set my machete down before moving back beside him at the tent entrance.

"I dunno. Maybe I'll find some bullets for it someday. Until then it'll make a great bludgeoning tool," I chuckled as we both crouched at the door. Daryl scoffed and stepped back into the tent to go to the other side and grab the man's arms while I grabbed the feet. Together with a few grunts we got the body out of the tent and tossed it to the side not too far away. The sleeping bag followed soon after and by the time night completely fell both Daryl and I had the rope of squirrels and the small backpack I had that carried a few water bottles tucked in the only corner of the tent that wasn't caked in blood and a small fire had been made out front to cook a couple of the rodents for our supper.

Silence ensued as usual as we skinned, gutted and cooked our meal. As we ate I couldn't hold back the sigh that escaped me while I stared at my squirrel a la stick and chewed at the somewhat tough meat. When I swallowed I finally spoke. "I miss steak," I mumbled and watched as Daryl looked at me from across the fire as he chewed at his own squirrel. "Medium rare and _smothered_ in barbeque sauce." I had to supress a moan just thinking about it.

I heard Daryl snort and I watched as he shook his head with a grin as he returned his sarcastic remark. "I'll gut a cow for ya someday," he mumbled and I wasn't sure because of the awkward glow of the fire, but I swore I saw him grin back.

I laughed probably a little louder than I should have so I toned it down a little to speak. "Thanks, that's sweet," I chuckled and took another bite out of my squirrel when he scowled and gave a grunt. I didn't even bother swallowing before I spoke again. "What food do you miss the most, Daryl?"

Surprisingly he didn't pause awkwardly like I expected; Daryl wasn't one to share background stories or feelings, but without hesitation he replied with, "pizza."

"Mm, good choice. The greasier the better. With lots of cheese," I said and took another hunk of squirrel, my lips curling slightly when I realized it was neither steak nor pizza.

We both finished our supper a few minutes after that and we put out the fire before retreating into the still stinky tent. Grimacing I avoided the dried puddles of blood as Daryl zipped up the entrance. We had fixed the pole back to its original spot earlier before supper so now the tent was set up as it should. Taking a spot close to the side of the tent I laid down on my stomach and folded my arms under my head as a pillow, turning my face to the side to look at the machete I had next to me just in case. Despite the near pitch blackness of the tent I discreetly watched as Daryl tensed up, his shoulders lifted slightly as he slowly took the spot on the other side of the tent. Lying down on his back, he too folded his arms under him to rest the back of his head on his hands.

We were probably only a foot apart which is probably why he was so uncomfortable. In our tent back at camp we had more room and his cot was a good foot off the ground whereas I slept on the floor of the tent. Here, in this tiny little tent that smelled like decaying flesh, we were in reaching distance and although I didn't have a problem with it, I knew Daryl did. He still wasn't the touchy feely type obviously.

The two of us lay there in silence, the only sound being that of the rustling leaves in the wind and our quiet breathing. It reminding me of the time before we met up with the Atlanta group where it was basically just me and him and a passed out Merle snoring in the corner. It might have only been two weeks since we joined, but it already felt like forever to me, even longer since the world fell into the shitter. I missed those days even though we were constantly on edge with it just being the three of us. Granted, the group provided the security and safety we wanted, though I highly doubt either Dixon would ever admit that, but the lack of privacy was frustrating.

Here out in the woods I couldn't help but revel in it, not even caring what the others back at camp thought. It didn't matter to me that they probably thought he was axe murdering my sorry ass right now and it didn't matter to me that they thought he was raping my cold corpse. I never cared to dwell or even care about what others thought about me or the people I held close before the apocalypse and I wasn't about to start now just because they had guns and the dead were walking. Daryl was the most capable of surviving in this world we now found ourselves in and it might seem like I'm taking advantage of him and his skills and maybe I was, but I didn't see it that way. If anything we all should be, or at least aspire to teach ourselves what Daryl knew so that we could survive like him, take some of the weight off his shoulders. It wasn't fare that they treated him the way they did.

It might have been an hour since we decided to go to bed for the night, it might have been two, but we were still awake. I could hear that his breathing hadn't evened out yet and on the few times I chanced a glance at him I could still see the dull white from his opened eyes as he stared at the roof of the tent. Though the nights were still warm for now I still felt a light chill without my blanket and it kept me awake; call it childhood nostalgia, but for some reason I always found it harder to sleep without a blanket even on the hottest of nights, it was my security that I always subconsciously needed to feel safe under. So eventually with a huff I rolled over onto my back and sat up knowing I wasn't going to get any decent amount of sleep.

I could see Daryl's head move slightly as he looked at me, but he didn't say anything as I curled my legs under myself and leaned my elbows forward on my knees. I heard the crinkling of the tent floor before I saw Daryl sit up as well, scratching at the back of his head then bringing one knee up while the other was stretched. I was just starting to realize how often he sat in that kind of pose, I don't think I've ever caught him sitting like how I currently was.

"Can't sleep neither?" he asked after a moment, his voice the low and gruff tone I had become accustomed to and I would have jumped had I been any further away in thought. I nodded at first, forgetting that it was dark and that he probably couldn't see. Cursing myself mentally I tried again.

"Yeah," I mumbled. As much as I enjoyed our few and far in between conversations I didn't really feel like having one at the moment. It was eerily silent out and the paranoia inside me I always tried to hold back started to surface. I worried that if we made too much noise we'd end up attracting Walkers and with our luck they'd attack when we'd finally managed to fall asleep. But I got the feeling that Daryl wanted to talk, as strange as it was, even if he wouldn't admit it. "What's keeping you up?"

Daryl let out a scoff. "Fuckin' stinks in here," he replied as if it was an obvious answer and I couldn't help but agree. The stench was really disgusting. "What 'bout you?"

I shrugged and let out a small sigh before shaking my head. "I keep having random thoughts going through my head and it won't let me relax enough to sleep," I said then I turned to look at him with a smile even though the only thing I could see was a faint outline. "And the smell is also part of it."

He didn't make a sound, but I somewhat saw his head bow briefly before lifting again in my direction. It was quiet for another few minutes as we sat there and I began to play with the hem of my fraying t-shirt. I bit my bottom lip nervously as a thought occurred to me, not sure if I wanted to voice it, but deciding 'what the hell?' I did anyway. "No one seemed to worry when we told them we were leaving today."

A short pause. "So?"

"Doesn't it bother you a little bit? They're always so concerned about you guys possibly ripping their heads off in their sleep, which is completely ridiculous by the way, and when others go down to the quarry or go out to find berries and shit there's always a chorus of 'be careful's at their backs," I ranted with a frown. Normally I didn't care for others trying to baby me as I always liked a sense of independence, but sometimes it was nice to know that others were worried for you. Especially at a time like this where wandering off too far could wind up with you as dead as a doornail. "Unless I went temporarily deaf, I didn't even hear one 'good luck'."

"Ain't mean shit to me," was Daryl's muttered reply and I could just picture him shrugging and biting at his thumb as I turned my eyes away from him and to the tent floor instead. "Spent my whole life with no one givin' two shits 'bout me, ain't expectin' it now just 'cause there's dead fuckers walkin' 'round."

My eyes widened in shock and I looked back at him, grateful that it was almost pitch black inside the tent so that Daryl couldn't see the sadness I had for him in my eyes. He didn't seem like the type to want pity which is probably why he didn't talk about his childhood that often. I've seen the scars he had on his arms and they don't all look like accidents, some of them are too even to be anything other than purposeful.

"Well," I started, stalling a little in fear that maybe he wouldn't like my next words too much. "You've got me." My voice wavered slightly in nervousness, still not sure how Daryl would react. "I give two shits. Hell, maybe I give three." My attempt at a joke was somewhat ruined by the fact my voice was still weak. "And then there's Merle. He probably gives two shits too being your brother and all."

I heard him let out a short laugh, but otherwise there was no reaction from him. It still made me smile though. I was starting to worry when he didn't answer for a while, my nerves making my heart race in my chest so loud I was scared that he'd be able to hear it.

But finally, I heard it; a word I would have never expected to hear come out of Daryl Dixon's mouth.

"Thanks."

It was just one word yet it meant so much. Daryl didn't throw around gratitude like confetti; hell, you have to practically bend over backwards while doing the Macarena to get a smile out of him, let alone a laugh. The other campers saw him as a volatile redneck in desperate need of anger management classes, but that's only because they didn't give him a chance for him to show them that he could also be this Daryl, the one that wasn't annoyed or pissed off, but the one that was quiet and preferred to be left alone to his thoughts.

Grinning I reached over with fingers curled and tapped his arm lightly with my knuckles as I chuckled softly, not able to stop myself from teasing him. "The great Daryl Dixon expresses gratitude? Alert the newspapers!" I laughed and could hear him grumbling almost immediately after. "I'm kidding. Chill." He didn't reply so I reached over again to place my hand on his shoulder gently, ignoring the flinch and the way his muscles tensed. Giving him a light pat, I lowered my voice to add, "seriously, though. You're welcome."

With that I allowed my hand so slide away from his shoulder and I moved to lay back down and attempt to go back to sleep. A few beats later I heard him also lay down and we were silent for the rest of the night. I drifted in and out of sleep for the next few hours, not being completely comfortable without a blanket until morning when the sun began to rise again in the sky. I woke up with a grumble and looked over to Daryl who was already sitting up and staring off into space, but when he heard me his eyes focussed and he glanced at me quickly with a nod before standing and heading out the door, grabbing the rope of squirrels and his crossbow as he went.

I was right behind him a moment later, retrieving my machete from the floor as well as my backpack and stuffing my newly acquired revolver back into my pants. Joining Daryl outside the tent where he was squinting at the trees around us I asked if we were going to be taking the tent with us at all. Shaking his head he replied that it would be pointless carrying around a 'half a dead man's brain in his last restin' place' and I agreed. It's not like we could have washed it out with a hose or anything.

And so we began the trek back to camp a little quicker than we were yesterday, catching squirrels and adding them to the rope, replacing the ones we ate for supper the night before. It was good, just like the day before and it was only about to get better. Why? Because Daryl just spotted a deer.


	6. Chapter 6

Crouching so low amongst the bushes and leaves for so long was starting to make my legs ache, but I didn't bitch mainly because bitching would scare off the deer that we were currently stalking and earn me a good tongue lashing from the hunter who also crouched behind his own bush merely two feet ahead of me, his crossbow trained steadily on his prize. Daryl was as silent as the goddamn wind as he moved just a little bit closer to the grazing animal, dodging the bush and twigs littering the ground with such ease and grace I was green with envy. In my wildest dreams I could never be that graceful, let alone quiet. Don't get me wrong, I'm not entirely clumsy, but I have managed to fall up a flight of stairs once and let's just leave it at that.

I didn't dare move from my spot half hidden behind a tree and the other half behind the green foliage of a small bush knowing full well with my luck that the moment I made to twitch and relieve some of the soreness in my legs I'd make some sort of sound and that deer would be off through the forest like nobody's business. My eyes did roam away from the action once in a while though making sure to keep a lookout for Walkers as was my purpose whenever going hunting with Daryl, aside from pack mule of course. I saw nothing but the slight sway of the leaves as they danced in the light breeze of the Georgia summer, the high canopies created by the bowing of the trees blocking out most of the sun's searing heat, for which I was thoroughly grateful. The area I was from in Canada wasn't cold all the time and we did have some nice hot summers days, but not nearly as many as Georgia.

I was pulled from my thoughts when I spotted Daryl once again take a predator's crouch behind a tree that rested on the edge of the small clearing our quarry currently grazed in, still unaware of the advances of its impending death. Just barely I saw Daryl's finger slide to the trigger of his weapon, the calloused pad resting calmly and patiently on the curved piece of metal. I sucked a breath in and held it, counting down in my head to the moment he would pull.

_3… 2... 1…_

The arrow was fired and planted its pointed end deep into the flank of the deer which let out a whine of pain as its rear end gave away and it almost collapsed to the ground. At the last moment it regained its strength and suddenly dashed off into the bushes in the opposite direction of where we were situated, disappearing into the trees on its spindly legs. Letting out a long sigh I heaved myself from the ground as Daryl lowered his crossbow slightly as he also rose. Coming to join him when he didn't make an attempt to move forward, I raised a brown eyebrow at him in question.

"Um, no offense, Daryl, but couldn't you have hit it in the head or something? We both know I'm no hunter, but even I could see you had a clear shot and you're aim is definitely good enough so what gives?" I said, placing my hands on my hips. It was bold, I admit, to point out a fault to Daryl –especially when it came to his hunting –but I was a blunt sort of person and didn't give a rat's ass if he threw me one of his fiery blue glares.

I didn't expect him to react so calmly to my somewhat insult however as he shrugged and leveled me with an indifferent stare his hands resting lightly on his deadly weapon. "You wanna carry a dead weight 125 pound doe four miles back to camp?" he deadpanned, his one eyebrow arching at me challengingly. "I sure as hell don't." I felt a light blush creep up my neck and to my cheeks in embarrassment even as he continued, grabbing another arrow from its spot to reload the weapon. After the task was done, his hand left the crossbow to point in the direction the deer had gone. "There's only one path it could follow and that leads back to the quarry, meanin' we won't have to drag it so far."

All I could manage was a quiet nod and an, "Oh," as he shook his head and continued on down the path, a small light of amusement shining in his eyes that he probably didn't know I had noticed. Grinning slightly I made a face at his back, but followed him as my hands fell once again to my sides and we went on in silence.

It actually didn't take long to find the deer again. I had expected it to high tail it all the way to the camp at full pelt, but it was hardly an hour later from the first time Daryl shot the speedy bastard that we found it again amongst a few bushes. It wasn't eating, but it was walking, a limp evident in the side Daryl's arrow protruded from. Without really bothering to go completely into hunter mode Daryl lifted a hand over his shoulder to signal me to stop and I obeyed instantly, watching once again as he switched gears and slowly approached the animal still at a good distance. He wasn't crouched low like before so I didn't move to make myself smaller either.

He lined up his shot again and let fly another arrow, once again catching the mammal in the behind only inches from the first one as there was no clear shot to get the head or the neck. This time Daryl quickly loaded another arrow before the deer had a chance to run as its back end gave out and took another shot that caught it in the shoulder. But again the deer cried out and dashed off into the trees, continuing on the same path as before towards camp. Apparently this isn't what Daryl had wanted to happen because he grumbled a swear as I came up beside him and he reloaded again. Without another word he took off at a good-paced jog after the animal with me hot on his heels, my right hand coming up to hold the rope of squirrels secure to my shoulder.

Another good hour or so passed where the only sounds that could be heard were our thudding steps on the ground and the birds chirping in the trees. We only stopped every once in a while to catch our breath, but other than that we kept a steady pace. I was thankful for all the times I was forced to keep up with Daryl and Merle as we ran through the bushes before we met up with the Atlanta group, my stamina definitely improving because of it. If you had asked me to go at a speedy jog for longer than ten minutes a year ago I would have laughed in your face.

When Daryl finally slowed to a leisurely walk I immediately recognized the area we were in as close to the quarry which meant the deer had either veered off somewhere away from the camp or ran straight through it. Since Daryl kept going towards the camp my guess was the latter.

The closer we got to the edge of one of the smaller clearings off to the side of the camp I could hear voices mumbling not too far away; probably in the clearing we were approaching from around a boulder. Suddenly the voices stopped the closer we got and I paused for a moment while Daryl continued on up to the boulder, sparing me a short glance before stepping up on the small mound of earth beside the rock. Instantly I followed suit, picking up my pace a little to catch up with him before he rounded the corner into the clearing. I moved too, but almost instantly smacked into his back when he abruptly stopped, my nose taking a slight beating on his shoulder.

"Oof!" I grunted and stepped back from him while my hand came up to tenderly touch my nose and fix my crooked glasses, sending his stiff back a haughty glare that instantly fell as I looked over his shoulder to find half the camp armed and trained on us.

Shane let out a sigh of annoyance as he lowered his shotgun with a muttered curse and everyone behind him visibly relaxed as they lowered their own weapons, staring at me and Daryl as the redneck rounded a tree in our way when he spotted his deer lying in the middle of the clearing. It was clearly now dead, half of its neck ripped open exposing all the ligaments and muscles that had been pulled out; the culprit being a Walker that now also lay on the ground next to it, the head detached and a good few feet away.

Grimacing, I followed Daryl around the tree as he entered the space with a curse. "Sunova bitch," he sneered, stomping up next to the scene. "That's my deer!" The both of us stepped up next to the dead animal to stare down at the damage as Daryl continued to verbalize his frustration, clearly talking to everyone present even though he glanced at me only as he pointed down at his catch with a finger. "Look at it all gnawed on by this _filthy_, _disease-bearing, motherless, poxy bastard!"_ He moved away from my side as he spoke to land three heavy kicks to the Walker's body with each insult.

"Calm down, son, that's not helping," Dale told him simply and I finally looked up from the would-be venison to take all who was present in. Around the deer were Shane, Dale, Morales, Jim, Glenn and some guy I hadn't seen before in a white shirt. Off to the side was Andrea, Amy, Lori and Carol and their kids as well as Jacqui. Hm, the group that went into the city must have been back; Merle wasn't present which meant he was probably getting high in our tent again. No surprise there.

Daryl moved away from the Walker's body only for a moment before stepping over it to get in Dale's face, regardless of Shane's attempt to ward him off by lifting the butt end of his shotgun between them and giving him a stern glare. "What do you know about it, old man?" Daryl challenged angrily, ignoring Shane completely. "You take that stupid hat and go back to 'On Golden Pond'."

He turned back around to the lost chance at a good meal as I snickered behind my hand, ignoring the lingering smell it had from the tent we stayed in the night before. Dale's ridiculous hat was the center of a lot of our conversations because for some reason Daryl really had a problem with it. He never said why just always that it was the dumbest thing he'd ever seen and that it should be burned. I told him he must not like fishing, he had only replied to that with a scowl and a grunt.

Sighing, the man looked sadly down at the deer as he bent over to pry his arrows from its body. "Been trackin' this deer for miles," he explained to all who were watching. I stepped back a bit to allow him easier access to yank the arrows free without accidentally elbowing me in the process. Though his tone had calmed his actions were a little rougher than necessary. "Was gonna drag it back to camp. Cook us up some venison."

Daryl was unaware, but as I looked around the silent group they all stared at the younger Dixon brother either with fear or uncertainty or both, looking between each other as if hiding a secret. It made my eyes narrow in concern and suspicion, but I didn't say anything as Daryl kept going.

"Whataya think? Think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?" he asked as he bent over to point at the Walker gnawed area on the neck of the deer with his arrows. Looking up from the animal he glanced around the group at the obvious leaders, Shane and Morales, then to me to which I only shrugged and quirked the corner of my lip up in a clueless gesture.

"I would not risk that," Shane replied, his tone disappointed as he sighed. He had moved his gun so that it rested across his shoulders and his hands draped over the ends of it leisurely.

Sighing again in annoyance, Daryl rose, still looking down at the deer. "That's a damn shame," he said then turned back to me to point at the rope of squirrels hanging off my shoulder. "I got some squirrel, 'bout a dozen or so. It'll have to do."

He moved to come back to stand next to me, but Amy's quiet exclamation of, "Oh god," stopped him in his tracks and he turned back around as she covered her mouth to stop from puking and ran off with her sister back to the main camp. On the ground was the head of the Walker and it was still 'alive' and snapping its decayed jaws. My lip curled up in disgust as I stared at it and my hand even tightened on my machete that I still had in its sheath at my hip even though I knew there was no way the bodiless head could get me.

"Come on, people, what the hell?" Daryl drawled rudely, aiming his crossbow at the head. Releasing the arrow it shot right through the left eye socket and effectively killed the Walker head for a second time. Taking a step closer he put the tip of his boot on the forehead and easily pulled the arrow out with a squelching sound that made my disgust increase. Moving back, Daryl looked at those still around us like they were idiots and began coming back to me so I shrugged the rope of squirrels off my shoulder and let it slide down to my hand, ready to hand it to him when he approached. "It's gotta be the brain. Don't ya'll know nothin'?"

I smirked at the hunter when he came up to me, taking the rope without a word. Not able to resist I snickered slightly. "Aren't you nice," I teased sarcastically. Daryl scowled at me for a moment then scoffed as he started the short trek back to the main camp with me following suit with a chuckle. The rest of the group followed behind us as we entered camp and immediately Daryl started calling out for Merle, not even bothering to be polite and just go to our tent to get the man. That wasn't his style.

"Merle," he called out as we passed the older man's motorcycle that was parked near some of the other vehicles. As we approached the RV and he received no reply so tried again. "Merle!" I furrowed my brow in confusion; Merle couldn't be passed out already, it was hardly noon yet. "Get yer ugly ass out here," Daryl continued and I searched the area for the man, but I didn't spot him anywhere. "Got us some squirrel. Let's stew 'em up."

Stopping next to the fire he bent to lean his crossbow against the fold-out chair I had plopped myself into upon reaching it, cringing slightly when I forgot to take the revolver out of my ass crack and it dug into my lower back. Arching my back just a bit I reached behind me to pull it free and rest it on my lap with a comfortable sigh as I settled back into the chair and Daryl still called out for his absent brother.

He then turned to go take the squirrels to the RV table to be skinned and cleaned and I knew it was only a matter of time before he'd call me over there too to help out. With a groan of annoyance I said a silent goodbye to my seat and began to rise when Shane's voice called out to Daryl from behind him. Rising to my full height I looked over to the new guy that trailed behind him, the same one I had seen in the clearing and watched carefully as they made their way over to the redneck. I clutched my new gun in my hand and followed eagerly, seeing something in this stranger's eyes that I didn't really know how to place, but didn't want to risk it.

Daryl turned slightly to look at the man over his shoulder, but didn't stop on his way to the RV until he continued. "Slow up a bit, I need to talk to you," he said and as much as I knew Daryl hated to be told what to do he did it anyways as Shane came up to him, his hand rubbing at his face uncomfortably. Faithfully I placed myself at Daryl's side as the stranger stayed a little farther back, eyeing me briefly before training his eyes on the hunter. Walking past Daryl a little bit, Shane kept going. "'Bout Merle. There was a, uh, problem in Atlanta." Turning back to the younger brother he placed his hands on his hips in his typical authoritative stance.

I felt my blood run cold instantly as silence filled the camp after that statement, all eyes trained on me and Daryl though mostly on the man as he looked around at each look of sympathy thrown at him, his features calm, but his eyes slowly gaining a fire. I bit my bottom lip gently as Daryl took a few steps away from me looking at Shane. "He dead?" he asked finally, voice not shaking one bit.

Shane hesitated and I could see Daryl's fire spread from his eyes to his body language as he began to tense. "Not sure," the officer replied after a long silence and I couldn't supress the scoff that escaped me, ignoring the warning look I received from Shane.

"He either is or he ain't," Daryl said angrily, his voice rising an octave as he prepared to step up into Shane's face. Before he even had the chance though the stranger cut in.

"No easy way to say this, so I'll come out and say it," he said, his Georgian drawl easy to place with Shane's and Lori's as he approached us from behind me. I eyed him carefully as he did so, brows narrowing slightly.

"Who're you?" Daryl asked, eyes also slanted at the man. My fingers curled tightly around my empty revolver subconsciously already having the feeling that some sort of confrontation was about to take place.

"Rick Grimes," the man replied and for a moment I let shock run through me. Grimes? As in Lori and Carl Grimes? Was he the dead father I once overheard Carl telling Carol's daughter Sophia about?

"Rick Grimes?" Daryl scoffed. "Ya got somethin' ya wanna tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all," he instantly replied leveling the other man with a stern stare. "So I handcuffed him on a roof hooked onto a piece of metal. He's still there."

I saw the building of tears in Daryl's blue eyes and instantly a glare settled onto my face as he turned away with a small whimper to wipe them away before anyone noticed. I wanted to scream at the man for his stupidity. The world may have gone to hell in a hand basket, but you couldn't just go handcuffing people to fucking rooftops! I meant to take a step towards Rick, but Shane threw me a look that clearly told me to stay out of it or my ass would be in the dirt before I could say 'hokey pokey'. Throwing my glare his way I stopped my advance to look back at Daryl.

"Let me process this," he growled, pointing to the side of his head for emphasis as he too glared at this _Rick_ guy. "You sayin' you handcuffed my brother to a _roof_?!" His voice gradually built in volume, becoming angrier the more he thought about the situation. "And ya _left_ him there?!"

Rick stared at Daryl apologetically for a moment, but the sympathy was lost on an angry Dixon. Lowering his head to look at the ground then in shame, Rick replied with a much gentler, and slightly ashamed, "Yeah."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I snapped, finally unable to hold back my own anger as I glared full blast at the man when he suddenly looked at me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Daryl's hand clenching at the rope of squirrels he still held as well as his breathing begin to speed up, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Shane held up a hand at me in a signal to stop even as my own curled tightly at my sides, my right hand tightened so much around the handle of my gun that my knuckles turned white.

"Max…" Shane mumbled warningly, but I ignored him as I lifted my gun hand to point the barrel at Rick like it was my finger.

"Just because the goddamn world falls apart it doesn't give you the ok to chain people up! I don't give a shit that you were a cop before, it's not fucking right!" I shouted. Merle might have been a pig and not one of my most favorite people in the world, but he was still my friend.

Before Shane had a chance to reprimand me or Rick to reply Daryl had thrown the rope of dead squirrels at him in anger for a distraction before charging him. Rick dodged the squirrels just in time as Shane clotheslined Daryl to the ground where he immediately pulled the knife he had on his belt out. To my left I heard the thudding of wood falling to the ground and hurried footsteps approach. I wasn't sure what to do now. I didn't want to get in on the fight knowing I'd probably get my ass handed to me and injured, but I wanted to help Daryl.

"Watch the knife," T-Dog warned as he ran up to the scuffle. He took my free arm to hold me back it seemed even as my gun hand dropped back to my side while I took a step back to avoid the fighting men. Daryl got his feet under him and began to swing in a blind fury at Rick who jumped back each time until being able to land a punch to the angry man's stomach and knocking him back into Shane who took Daryl to the ground in a chokehold and kicked the knife from his grasp. Rick bent to take up the knife and tucked it in the back of his jeans as Shane and Daryl struggled, the latter unfortunately losing the battle although he still growled and grunted like a wild animal.

"Best let me go!" he shouted as best as he could with a partially cut off air supply, trying to pry Shane's arm away from his neck.

"Naw, I think it's better this way," Shane shot back sounding a little too smug than I liked and forced myself a few steps towards them.

"Let go of him! You're going to fucking choke him to death!" I snapped angrily feeling the heat of it flushing my neck and cheeks, the adrenalin making my heart pump faster.

"Stay out of it, Max," the ex-cop growled at me barely sparing me a glance as most of his concentration was on a struggling Daryl.

"Chokeholdin's illegal," Daryl ground out, his voice gravelly from the lack of air.

"You can file a complaint later," Shane sneered back as Rick knelt in front of the duo and Daryl continued to struggle. "I could keep this up all day." Yeah, Shane was enjoying this far too much.

"I'd like you have a _calm_ discussion on this topic. You think we can manage that?" Rick asked, his tone still calm though it held the same authority Shane liked to prance around with though it didn't hold the same arrogance. When Daryl didn't reply he tried again. "You think we can manage that?"

Daryl grunted but otherwise didn't comply or protest the question. After another moment Rick nodded to Shane and the other man tossed the hunter to the dirt before standing. Glaring at him once again he threw me a frown of disappointment and I lifted my middle finger at him before turning my attention back to Daryl and Rick. As my friend panted on the ground, tears still resting on his lashes as he tried to regain his breath, Rick ducked his head to catch his eye.

"What I did was not on a whim," he told him. "Your brother does not work and play well with others."

"It's not Rick's fault," T-Dog suddenly interrupted as he finally released his hold on my arm and took a step closer, a frown in place as everyone looked to him. "I had the key. I dropped it."

Daryl glared at the dark skinned man with something close to hatred. I knew Daryl wasn't racist like he had everyone else believe, but he didn't seem to know how to properly react or talk to anyone from another culture that didn't include insults and derogatory comments. "You couldn't pick it up?" he snapped at the larger man spitefully.

"Well, I dropped it down a drain," T-Dog replied.

Both Daryl and I scoffed at the same time and I didn't miss the glance T-Dog threw at me. Rick stood then as the hunter pulled himself to his hands and knees then finally to a standing position, taking a clump of dirt up in his hand. Walking past me and T-Dog he didn't bother looking at me as he threw the clump at T-Dog's feet. "S'posed to make me feel better, it don't."

T-Dog took a couple steps away from the man as he approached, effectively moving to my other side to stand between me and Rick as he kept a good distance and replied. "Maybe this will; look, I chained the door to the roof so the Geeks couldn't get at him," he explained then took a breath to add, "With a padlock."

Daryl still glared at him, but I could see the pain behind his angry blue eyes and it made my heart ache to look at him. "That's got to count for something," Rick said softly from behind him and Daryl gave him a look over his shoulder before bowing his head as his face scrunched up in anguish. Biting my lip gently I tentatively reached out to him to somehow offer comfort even though I knew I'd probably be met with the same anger he directed at the men. My thoughts were confirmed when his hand shot out to shove mine away before using it to wipe away the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. My brows narrowed sadly, slightly put out that he'd push me away so harshly even if I did expect it. I thought after last night things might be different between us, he'd open up more and let me in, but apparently I was wrong.

"Daryl…" I tried softly, my heart clenching to see him in such distress, but he ignored me as he looked at the rest of the camp that all had their eyes trained on him.

"The hell with all ya'll!" he shouted angrily, his voice cracking slightly before looking back at Rick. "Just tell me where he is, so I can go get 'im." By the end of his demand his tone went from week to gruff like I was used to hearing.

"He'll show you," Lori suddenly spoke up from the open doorway of the RV. Rick looked over to the brunette woman and was silent. "Isn't that right?" Rick was quite for a few seconds longer as he looked at all the expectant gazes now drawn to him, finally nodding as he looked back at the younger Dixon.

"I'm goin' back," he told him. Tense silence followed as Daryl gave him a long look then stormed past them all to retrieve his crossbow, the rope of squirrels forgotten on the ground by the RV. Throwing one last glare at the newcomer I dashed after the redneck, ignoring the stares that followed us, as he made for our tent with angry steps and hunched shoulders, his arm lifting every few seconds to wipe at his eyes.

When we reached our secluded tent he turned and startled slightly at seeing me there too and the moment I saw his slightly red puffy eyes I wanted to do nothing more than hug him. Instead I crossed my arms over my chest and spread my feet shoulder width apart as if I needed the stability to say what I wanted. "I'm going too," I stated simply yet with a tone of finality.

Daryl scoffed then sniffed slightly as he shook his head. "No ya ain't. Yer keeping yer sorry ass right here where it's safe," he demanded, using a finger to point at the ground for emphasis. "No bein' stupid."

"I know he's your brother, Daryl, but that asshole means something to me too, as shocking as that may be," I shot back and he clenched his jaw with a frown. I took a step toward him to give him my most stubborn stare I could muster, one that told him not to argue. "Whether you like it or not, I'm going."

"Whatever," he mumbled, tearing his gaze from my stare almost uncomfortably. "Just don't expect me to babysit ya."

Smiling in triumph I bore my teeth at him in victory. "I would never ask you to."


	7. Chapter 7

It was probably only twenty minutes or so after the argument that had occurred in front of the RV when Daryl and I came back from our tent, knifed-up and ready to rumble. We stood across from the fire that Ed, Carol's husband, sat leisurely in the pulled out backseat of a car with his feet crossed at the ankles and resting on the stones that were set in a circle around the unused fire pit. The redneck was busy inspecting his weapons and counting his arrows while I basically just stood there with my thumbs up my ass waiting for Rick to finish getting ready so we could head out already. I had tucked my revolver back into my pants and had Daryl's machete still strapped to my hip and even changed out of my shirt into a tank top in favor of the weather as well as anticipating the amount of running we'd more than likely be doing if we were going into Walker Central. I didn't want to be sweating like a stuffed pig on Christmas, which would undoubtedly enhance my 'alive' smell and draw more of the undead fuckers right to us.

It wasn't long until I spotted Rick coming from around one of the tents buttoning up a Sherriff's uniform shirt with Shane on his tail like a needy lovesick puppy and harping on him like a nagging wife. The arrival of the two of them caught the attention of everyone else around too, even Daryl, but he only glanced at them for a moment with a small scowl as Shane's tone grew louder.

"… So could you just-," he started, clearly frustrated. "Could you throw me a bone here, man? Could you just tell me _why_?" Rick stalked passed me and Daryl, but stopped when Shane wouldn't let up. "Why would you risk your life for a douchebag like Merle Dixon?"

"Hey," Daryl and I said in unison though my tone was more of the snappy kind and Daryl's held more warning. He lifted his hand to point the bolts in his hand at the dark haired cop, much calmer than before, but it was clear he still wasn't a ray of sunshine. "Choose your words more carefully."

"Oh no, I did. Douchebag's what I meant," Shane shot back and Daryl scowled, turning so that he could settle down on one of the overturned crates beside the fire pit. Although I agreed with Shane's insulting name for the man at least 80%, he after all was a complete asshole, I shot him a glare of my own anyways, but I was ignored. "Merle Dixon." The name was spat with such venom it was almost like it was molasses on his tongue. The rest of what he said was lost on me as the clunking of the others who were tearing apart a beautiful red sports car they had brought back from Atlanta on their last trip drew my attention.

I did however hear Rick's reply to it as he wasn't cowardly enough to lower his voice around Daryl when speaking about his brother. "What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me," he said evenly. "_I_ can't let a man die of thirst. It's me." Shane made a grunt of disagreement, but like a champ Rick stood his ground on his morals. "_Thirst_ and exposure. We left him like an animal caught in a trap, that's no way for anything to die let alone a human being."

It was with those words that I knew for sure that Rick wasn't the least bit anything like Shane. Shane, who strutted around like the President of the United fucking States and yet instantly looked to his old Sherriff and partner like back before the world went to hell. It made me want to smile in victory knowing Shane was finally put in his place and practically told to shut the hell up.

"So you and Daryl? That's your big plan?" Lori asked from the fire pit next to the one I stood at with the hunter. She didn't sound at all convinced that it was a good thing and she had good reason to too. She had just gotten her husband back after believing for however long that he was dead, either already a Walker somewhere or actually fully dead. Nevertheless I twisted my body to throw her a calm yet stern stare as my arms crossed over my chest then turned back around to give Rick the same look.

"And me," I butted in, squaring my shoulders when the two ex-officers of the law stared at me with surprise. Well, Shane was anyway, Rick looked like he didn't know what to think as he looked me over which wasn't a surprise since he didn't know me at all. Beside me, Daryl didn't react as he wiped off his arrows.

"Max, no. You gotta death wish?" Shane snapped, his wide shocked eyes now narrowing into a glare that was meant to be intimidating, but I only raised a brown eyebrow at him over my thickly rimmed glasses.

"The way I see it, it's just a matter of time until we're all dead anyways so why not spend my time trying to do something useful? Oh, and by the way, that '_douchebag_' has saved my ass more times than I can count on my fingers, I owe it to him." When saying douchebag I uncrossed my arms to make air quotations with my hands while rolling my eyes before recrossing them and turning my attention to Rick who slowly nodded his consent. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Daryl pause, no doubt thinking about the day before when Merle had slapped me, but quickly went back to cleaning as if he hadn't stopped at all.

"Alright, so you, Daryl and Max," Lori attested after a quiet moment. "That's it?"

Her husband didn't reply, but slowly turned around to look at Glenn who stood only a few feet behind him. By the annoyed look that crossed the Asian's face I knew Rick was giving a hopeful stare. I was proven right a second later. "Ugh, come on," the young man whined.

"You know the way," Rick reasoned as Glenn removed his baseball cap from his head to run his hand through his hair. "You've been there before. In and out, no problem. You said so yourself. It's not fair of me to ask, I know that, but I'd feel a lot better with you along. I know she would too." Rick's hand came up to gesture to his wife.

Glenn didn't answer right away and Shane had no problem filling the silence. "That's just great. Now you're going to risk four peoples' lives, one of them being a woman. A _woman_, Rick," he ground out irritably and I sneered at him. I didn't like his cocky ass before, now I was _really_ starting to hate him. Sexist pig.

"Five," T-Dog corrected from the other side of the fire pit where he stood next to Andrea. Daryl looked over his shoulder too glance at him, pausing a moment in his ministrations with a scoff until he went back to it.

"My day just gets better and better, don't it?" he grumbled to himself, lifting the arrows to inspect and wipe at the fletching. Before I could rethink my actions, my hand shot out to smack his shoulder warningly, giving him a stern look that told him to be nicer; T-Dog, after all of Merle's prejudices and racism –and probably that split lip too, was still willing to go back and save his sorry ass. Daryl stopped what he was doing again to look at me with surprise even though the hit wasn't hard and I only raised my eyebrow, daring him to test me even though I knew he could knock me out with one well aimed punch.

"You see anybody else here steppin' up to save your brother's cracker ass?" T-Dog drawled. Both men didn't look at each other and I lifted my arms in exasperation to point at myself.

"What am I? Chopped liver?" I was ignored.

"Why you?" Daryl growled.

"You wouldn't begin to understand," T-Dog shot back. "You don't speak my language."

"That's five," Dale cut in from behind Rick.

"It's not just five," Shane snapped, frowning at Rick. "You're puttin' every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick. Come on, you saw that Walker. It was here. It was _in_ camp!" He continuously pointed at the dirt to emphasise his point before taking a step closer to who used to be his superior. "They're movin' out of the cities. If they come back we need every able body we got. We need them here. We need them to protect camp."

It sounded as if Shane really cared about the camp, but I knew better. The only thing Shane cared about was Lori and Carl and while that was admirable that still left the rest of us high and dry if it ever came down to our lives or theirs. I didn't like the chances I had of being someone that Shane would stick his neck out for to save my ass, not that I wanted him to anyway; I'd prefer to look after myself if I could. I might not be a sharpshooter or the strongest member of our ragtag group, but I'd be damned if I let someone like Shane throw me under the bus just so he could get off scot free.

"Sounds to me what you really need most here are more guns," Rick corrected, drawing me out of my thoughts and back to the situation at hand.

"Right," Glenn cut in softly, gaining all the attention. "Guns."

Shane narrowed his eyes in confusion as he looked between the kid and Rick. "Wait what guns?"

"Six shot guns, two high powered rifles, over a dozen hand guns," Rick told him. "I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left. I dropped the bag in Atlanta when I got swarmed; it's just sittin' there on the street waiting to be picked up."

"Ammo?" Shane asked Rick.

"700 rounds assorted," He replied. My eyes widened at this new information and my thoughts immediately drifted to my revolver stuffed in the back of my pants. Turning my head to look at Daryl I gave him a smug smirk at my luck at finding and keeping the gun. His response with to scowl in return.

A collective deep breath flowed through camp as well, but Lori had to ruin it. "You went through _hell_ to find us. Y-you just got here. You're jus- You're just going to turn around and leave?" she accused, her voice turning week by the end.

"Dad, I-I don't want you to go," Carl added from beside his mother quietly and I felt a pang of sympathy towards the kid. I wasn't the biggest fan of Lori, but the little boy for some reason I had a soft spot for.

"To hell with the guns. Shane is right," Lori continued. "_Merle Dixon_? He's not worth one of your lives even with guns thrown in." At that both Daryl and I glared at the harpy of a woman. Jesus, everyone here was so quick to judge them yet no one seemed to bat an eyelash at Ed beating his wife; it was stupid. Rick approached his wife as she stood, anger fueling her words and actions. "Tell me. _Make_ me understand."

"I owe a debt," Rick explained. "To a man and his little boy." Lori sneered slightly and looked at her son, about to snap something at her husband if he didn't cut her off. "Lori, if they hadn't have taken me in I'd have died. It's because of them I made it back to you at all. They said they'd follow me to Atlanta. They'll walk into the same trap I did if I don't warn them."

"What's stoppin' you?"

"The walkie talkie. The one in the bag I dropped. He's got the other one and our plan was to connect when they got closer," He replied.

Shane, who had moved over to sit on the bumper of his jeep, wiped a hand down his face in frustration. "Is it our walkies?"

"Yeah," Rick sighed.

"So use the CB, what's wrong with that?" Andrea spoke up for the first time that morning, still standing by T-Dog and not glued to her sister's hip for once.

"CB's fine it's the walkies that suck, they're crap. Date back to the 70's, don't match any bandwidth, not even the scanners in our cars," Shane answered still clearly annoyed.

"I need that bag," Rick told Lori when she frowned, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She didn't say anything, but turned away from Rick as he walked passed her to kneel in front of Carl. "Ok?" His son looked up to him in silence, but his little head nodded in agreement and his father reached up to ruffle his mop of brown hair reassuringly. Standing again, Rick placed his hands on his hips, expression determined yet at the same time soft, but that also could have been due to the harsh sun's rays that caused him to squint, I couldn't be sure. Turning away from his family without another word he gave a nod to T-Dog and then Daryl and I.

Daryl didn't return the gesture, but I did for both of us with my own silent nod as he walked by to talk to Shane and Glenn, T-Dog following close behind without sparing me or the redneck a look of any kind. By now Daryl's cleaning was long since finished; he probably only took so long for an excuse to ignore everyone and the bickering that was happening around us and I couldn't blame him, it felt like high school all over again. Rick really was proving to be a good man in my eyes though, that much I could say for sure. Although Merle was someone I could almost consider a friend, despite the fact he had hit me once, if I wasn't as close to Daryl as I was there was no way I would be risking my Canadian ass to get his high one off a roof in the middle of a Walker infested city because, after all, it was probably his own damn fault that he was even chained up in the first place. But Daryl was the closest thing I had to a best friend now, even if it was one-sided, and that jackass was his brother and so I did what I felt was right –for Daryl.

I blinked out of my thoughts when Rick's voice suddenly caught my attention from over by the RV even though he was addressing Daryl. The hunter's only acknowledgement to being called out to was slight lift to his head and a grunt. "We'll be ready to head out soon," the ex-Sherriff told him before nodding his head in the direction of the white van they had apparently brought back with them. I hadn't noticed until then. "You think you can pull the back of the van up so we can start loadin' up?"

Daryl glared at the man, obviously not liking being ordered around by the new guy especially on a trip to save his brother, but he still hauled himself up from his seat and attached his now clean arrows to the holder on his crossbow. I had to stifle a snort of amusement when he stalked past me, grumbling to himself about 'takin' orders from pigs', but I still allowed a smirk to quirk my lips. However it fell when only a few feet away Daryl turned without stopping to walk backwards while resting his crossbow on his shoulder and clicking his tongue loud enough for me to hear.

I looked at him again with a brow raised in confusion before I saw a smirk of his own grace his scruffy dirty features. He, as well as myself I'm sure, was still covered in dirt and sweat from our romp through the woods yesterday and this morning. His free hand reached down to pat his thigh before he turned back around so that his back faced me though his head was still turned slightly to the side as he let out a whistle that reminded me of an owner calling his dog. My eyebrow lowered as a glare set in and he looked ahead of him again. I growled in annoyance before following him and meeting up with him at the side of the van that read 'Ferenc Builders' on the side of it in white letters surrounded by a red block as the small backdrop.

Still glaring at the man even as he opened the passenger side door to set his crossbow in I spoke. "So what? You need help backing up vans now?" I taunted, not at all happy he was able to summon me like an animal though most of the annoyance was directed at myself for allowing it in the first place.

His mood seemed oddly light for just finding out his brother was practically a free meal sitting in wait for Walker bits as he turned his still present smirk on me. "Got ya away from the drama didn't I? Thought ya'd be happy," he replied, stepping down from the extended step up to the door before slamming it shut and moving to go around to the driver's side. I followed him, arms crossed over my chest indignantly.

"I am. Kind of," I admitted somewhat sheepishly, thrown off slightly by his cool demeanor.

Opening the door he threw a grin at me before stepping up to the seat. "Then what ya complainin' for?"

"Well I don't exactly appreciate being called like a dog, you asshole," I spat, but some of my anger was lost on the fact that a grin of my own started to force itself onto my face. I couldn't help it; banters with Daryl always made me smile.

Snorting slightly, Daryl hauled himself up and slammed the door to the van before turning the engine over and rolling down the window to rest his arm on and look down at me. I peered back up at him through my thick rimmed glasses. "How else am I s'posed to get yer attention? Half the time ya don't reply to yer own name," he scoffed with a shake of his messy head. "Always off in yer own little world and shit."

I shrugged, my shoulders barely lifting due to my crossed arms. "How do you know I'm not just ignoring you?" I teased, giving him a sly grin to which he only rolled his eyes and turned away, his hand coming up to thrust a thumb towards the back of the van.

"Shut yer mouth and be my lookout, bitch," he sneered, but the malice that would have been behind it with any other of the group members was lost and instead didn't sound threatening or rude despite its words.

Giving him a mock salute I complied with a wide grin. "You got it, Robin Hood." I then skipped off to the back of the van to do as I was told, laughing when I heard him let out an exclamation of 'the fuck ya just call me?'

After heaving the back open I hopped up inside and stood there holding onto one of the ropes that hung on the side for support as Daryl drove the vehicle down the path a little ways to turn around and back in. I had to yell over the loud beeping of the van to direct Daryl from bashing into the other cars as we stopped next to the red car and he turned off the engine before crawling between the seats to join me at the back where I was watching Rick and T-Dog converse with Dale and Jim about tools. Looking up at him I knew his slightly good mood from our light-hearted teasing only a few minutes before was gone the second he laid eyes on the men responsible for his brother being left behind; his eyes hard and steely and his jaw set firmly.

The contempt was gone a second later to be replaced with annoyance as he stalked back to the front of the van where Glenn had already settled himself in the driver's seat, dubbing himself as the driver. Bracing his hands on the ledge of the opening and disregarding Glenn being present he stretched out a leg and used his foot to honk the horn, the poor kid in front of it jumping away like a scared rabbit. Although amusing, Daryl wasn't helping matters being the temper tantrum child he was as he stomped back beside me to yell, "Let's go!"

The men ignored his attitude as they accepted the Bo cutters from Dale with a grateful nod and I shook my head with a sigh. I could see Daryl scowl at me slightly out of the corner of my eye, but also ignored him. It may sound mean, even if his bitchy attitude was warranted, but I couldn't help but want to tell Daryl that you caught more bees with honey than vinegar. I stopped myself in time knowing that I was likely to get a 'fuck you' in return as well as the silent treatment and I didn't want that from the one person I actually liked aside from Glenn.

T-Dog and Rick came up to the van then as I decided to take a seat against the side, ignoring the irritable digging of my revolver into my back. T-Dog climbed in with the Bo cutters as Shane followed close behind his friend after hauling a black duffle bag out of the back of his jeep. Daryl went back to the front to retrieve his crossbow from the passenger's seat before coming back and taking a seat of his own a few feet to my right and across from T-Dog who held the Bo cutters tightly in his lap as if almost afraid the redneck would attack him though his face didn't show it. Daryl practically ignored him as he rested his own weapon in his lap and leaned his head back against the side of the van.

"Got any rounds in the python left?" Shane asked Rick as he set the back down on the step into the van. I watched the two men converse silently out of the side of my vision, hardly paying attention to their words and more the bag that Shane had. When he pulled a few bullets from inside it I perked up though and moved to crawl closer to them, not even bothering to stand as I did so, despite Daryl's warning glance.

"Four bullets," Shane laughed ironically, tone void of amusement as he spared me a quick glance before shaking his head at his friend and handing over the bullets to Rick. "Maybe you could pull straws."

Glaring at the man slightly I turned my attention to Rick who had politely turned his head to look at me when I approached. "That bag of guns you got," I started then reached behind me to pull the still dirty revolver from its spot to show him. The man stared at it for a moment before looking back into my eyes carefully. "Think there will be ammo for this baby? I don't know much about guns so I can't even tell you what cailiber it is." My declaration was followed by a snort not only from myself but also from Shane.

"Yeah, I'm surprised you even know what cailiber means," he grunted, avoiding my gaze as I glared at him while flipping my middle finger and Rick took the gun to inspect it. The hand I had used to hand it to him then came up to push my glasses up that had fallen down the bridge of my nose slightly.

Sliding out the chamber and then flicking it back in and releasing the hammer Rick presented the handle to me to take back. "You're lucky it's a 9 mil," he said, ignoring Shane's earlier comment. "That's not a new gun. If the bullets ended up being a less popular cailiber I'd probably say it would be useless for anything except a hammer. As it so happens there are plenty of 9 mil in that bag."

Giving our new addition a small smile and a nod I thanked him before both he and Shane moved away from the back. Standing from my knelt position I reached up for the handle of the door to the van and gripped it tightly with my right hand as my left held the revolver. From behind me I could feel both Daryl and T-Dog's eyes on me.

"Need any help with that, Max?" T-Dog asked just as my fingers wrapped around the handle. I could hear the passenger door slam shut as Rick took his seat up front with Glenn and a moment later I pulled the door down with ease and the back the of van was enveloped in a darker light though it was still easy to see.

"Nope," I quipped in reply, patting off my now slightly dusty hand on my loose jeans as I retook my spot against the wall next to Daryl and rested the gun on my lap to scratch at the dried blood with my nails.

"Here," I heard Daryl grunt from beside me before a red cloth was dropped next to me.

It was the same one he was using to clean his arrows a few minutes ago and I picked it up. "Oh, thanks," I said nonchalantly, but then actually feeling the cloth I noticed it was slightly damp. Turning my head to look at the hunter I narrowed my brows slightly. "It's wet. Please tell me it's water."

The man merely shrugged in response, eyes trained through the front windshield of the van between Rick and Glenn's seats as we began to head out of the camp, before mumbling, "Some of it is."

"Awww," I whined in slight disgust, crinkling my nose slightly even as I laughed out the sound. "Man, that is just nasty." I could hear T-Dog snicker slightly with his own laughter, but Daryl remained straight-faced aside from the small scowl he usually had. Shaking my head still with a smile I began to scrub at the caked on blood with the rag. "But as long as it's not your jizz, it's fine."

At that T-Dog let out a guffaw and I grinned up at him, still earning no reaction from Daryl besides a grunt. Snickering to myself I continued cleaning my gun as we headed down the cliff's road away from camp. As my smile slowly faded and the only noise that was heard was the gravel crunching under the van's tires and the pleasant hum of Glenn and Rick's quiet chatter I couldn't help but let the dread of our upcoming situation creep in as we headed towards Atlanta, all previous amusement disappearing.


	8. Chapter 8

And so here we are back at the beginning of my ramblings, reflecting on my thoughts as most people do when they're sure death had just sent them a greeting card from the fiery pits of hell with big bubbly letters proclaiming 'GREETINGS FROM LAVAWORLD!' I swear, the minute I saw the highway leading into Atlanta I wanted to take Rick's gun and just end it all right then and there. I hadn't seen the city except for the tops of the skyscrapers in the distance from the quarry since the day I met up with the Dixon brothers and I was beginning to think coming along on this little rescue mission was not the greatest idea I ever had. Worse than my brilliant plan to drink the bleach I thought was just some funny smelling fruit juice when I was three.

The ride there was, for the most part, silent, the air thick with tension that no amount of small talk could dissipate. Not that Rick didn't try. The poor guy attempted to make conversation to get our minds off of what we were heading into, but only really succeeded in getting complete responses out of Glenn and T-Dog. Daryl had just grunted whenever asked anything and even I didn't say much when spoken to. Anytime I was asked a question Daryl had thrown me a look daring me to make nice with the enemy and so I either replied with short evasive answers or not at all. After a while Rick seemed to give up and the van fell silent again until we reached the edges of the city.

Following along some train tracks beside a chained fence we all sat ridged and ready to run if necessary. Even Daryl held his crossbow close as he gave T-Dog a warning glare that would probably make Arnold Schwarzenegger quiver in his booties. I had moved to rest on my knees in the middle of the van to look out the window curiously, but also with fear. Seeing outside to prepare myself felt like the only thing I could do to get ready to step into Satin's maw.

"He better be ok," Daryl told the black man on the other side of the vehicle, staring across my back to give him a dark glare. "There's no other word on the matter."

I glanced at my friend quickly as T-Dog replied. "I told you," he said in exasperation. "The Geeks can't get at him. Only thing that's going to get through that door is us."

Lifting the rag I had used earlier to clean my gun, Daryl used an untouched corner to wipe his lip as he stared the other man down and Glenn pulled to a stop and killed the engine. All conversation that could have continued from that point, although unlikely, was cut off as Glenn turned around, sweat of fear and nervousness already forming on his hairline. He looked at each of us with a frown.

"We walk from here," he told us quietly.

Rick was the first to jump out of the vehicle and the rest of us followed suit. Daryl flung open the back of the van so easily it made it look like it was no lighter than paper and I stared in slight shock for a moment as he jumped out and immediately rounded the side of the van to meet Glenn and Rick at the front. T-Dog was soon after him and even offered me a hand as I jumped out behind him with a small thankful smile. I saw Daryl glance back at us as the three of them ahead of us already started in the direction Glenn was going and saw his eyes narrow as they passed over the man before landing on me and softening slightly. Jogging to catch up with them I came to Daryl's side with an encouraging smile that he didn't return, but instead he graced me with an acknowledging nod when I pulled the machete he had given me from the sheath as we followed after the Asian.

No one spoke as we went at a quick jog, but our eyes scanned every area we could see that would possibly have Walkers stumbling around. We had to duck behind a few vehicles once in a while, but other than the odd one or two Walkers there was nothing to worry about until Glenn stopped at a section of fencing that had a nice chunk cut into it and was held together by a single metal loop that the kid easily flicked open and created a small entrance.

"Merle first or guns?" Rick asked when he was through and turned back to look at the rest of us. I followed after Daryl who was next after Rick and stood aside to let T-Dog and Glenn through.

"Merle," Daryl immediately replied. "We ain't even havin' this conversation." I followed him as he stepped over the railing and past the cop. Behind us, Glenn was securing the fence shut again.

"We are," the other man growled back as if scolding a child then turned to Glenn as he caught up and we moved away from the fence at a quick pace. "You know the geography so it's your call."

"Merle's closest," the kid replied, his tone slightly breathless as we picked up our pace a bit. "The guns would mean doubling back. Merle first."

No one argued with him as we moved on, still on the lookout for Walkers, but I looked past both Rick and Daryl to look at Glenn as I asked, "Won't we have to double back either way then?"

I saw Daryl's eyes harden slightly next to me and before Glenn could reply he let out a growl. "What the hell, Max? We're gettin' Merle first, ain't no question 'bout it!" he snapped and I immediately threw a glare of my own at him, unafraid of his temper.

"I know, dumbass!" I shot back haughtily. "The guns are in the middle of a fucking street. I was only asking because if we have to double back anyway and end up getting swarmed, I would like a place that provides at least a bit of protection instead of being out in the open." I could see the others getting slightly uncomfortable with me taking that kind of tone with the redneck, because if it were any of them they'd have an arrow through the eye in two seconds, but right now I could hardly give two shits. "Don't treat me like I'm your goddamn bitch, Daryl Dixon, or I will have absolutely _no_ problem _whatsoever_ showing you just how big of a bitch I can be."

His angry sneer was gone for a moment to be replaced by shock as he stared at me and I glared with all my strength at him. Standing my ground and poking fun at Merle on a regular basis was already dangerous enough for me, but throwing Daryl's temper right back at him was probably like poking a bear with rabies. It wasn't smart, but no one ever claimed I was, did they?

"I think you just did," I vaguely heard T-Dog mumble on the other side of our group and had to supress the urge to smile at him. He and the Dixons had their problems, yes, but that didn't mean I had beef with him.

While Daryl was still shocked into silence Glenn took the opportunity to answer my earlier question somewhat nervously. I was after all holding a very sharp machete in my hand. "Um, no we wouldn't. The department store is a little more to the East than the guns. We head there first then grab the bag then we can take a few side streets so we can avoid turning back," he said as we ducked behind a van that had veered onto the sidewalk, lowering his voice gradually as he spoke.

Turning to Daryl with a smug smirk I whispered, "See? That's all I wanted to know."

He scowled but didn't look at me as both him and Rick slid back up the side of the van slightly to look and see if the way was clear through the windows. A moment or two later they both came back down and while Daryl still looked irritated, which was nothing new, Rick looked more pale than usual as he took a few calming breaths. I lifted an eyebrow at them in question, but T-Dog was the one to beat me to it.

"So? Come on, man, what's it look like out there?" he asked, slightly breathless from the jogging we had been doing. Glenn, who was on Rick's other side was also slightly out of breath, but it was probably due to the fact he was nervous more than actually being tired. The poor kid looked like he was about to have a panic attack half the time at the slightest misconception.

Shaking his head, the ex-Sherriff pursed his thin lips together thoughtfully as if trying to figure out the right words to say. My guess is it probably didn't look good and our odds of getting across the street and down the block or two to the department store was minimal.

"Looks like hell, is what," Daryl replied for him gruffly as he licked his dry lips absently while fixing his grip on his crossbow. I caught myself at the last moment following the movement of his tongue as it darted out and then disappeared again and I blinked and sharply looked away mortified. Sure, Daryl was an extremely attractive guy if you looked under all the dirt and ratty clothes, something I wouldn't mind doing actually… Fuck! No! God, what is wrong with me? This is _Daryl Dixon_ we're talking about; redneck and Mr. Scowl extraordinaire; I shouldn't and wouldn't think of him like that.

"How bad is it? How many do you think?" Glenn cut in, his voice wavering slightly.

Shaking his head again Rick actually answered this time. "A lot. Way more than we can sneak past as a group," he said, his voice hushed so as to not attract the attention of the Walkers shuffling past us on the other side of the vehicle. Damn fuckers had fox hearing or something.

"You want us to split up?" T-Dog spat incredulously, his tone seeming more forceful due to our whispering. His dark hands tightened their hold on the handles of the Bo cutters he held and though I doubted the man would actually hurt anyone living with those things, it still made me nervous.

"No!" Rick shot back. "We just need to think of somethin', that's all."

"Better think quick, there buddy, because those Walkers won't stay ignorant to us being here for very long," I pointed out, speaking up for the first time since ducking behind the van. Rick and the others all cast me a withering glance, but no one replied for a long while. When a few minutes had passed I dropped my chin to my chest with a frustrated sigh. It was clear the other guys were letting Rick call the shots even if Glenn was technically the mastermind of the whole shindig. It was clear as day to me, I wasn't sure if it was to the others, what we had to do. Looking back up at Rick who wore a deep calculating frown I spoke again. "We need a distraction. A decoy."

His eyes flickered up to me as I heard T-Dog snort from on the other side of Daryl. "And what do you suggest? Throw a rock and hope they all follow?"

"No," I replied flatly, still eyeing Rick. "I watched enough sci-fi and army shit back when the world was all fine and dandy. We need bait. Live bait."

"Max…" Glenn mumbled, breaking into the conversation with eyes wide in shock. I flicked my gaze to him briefly as my lips set into a hard line of determination, noting his worried and knowing stare, before looking back at Rick. "You're not thinking what I think you're thinking… Are you?"

"That's exactly what she's thinkin'," Daryl spat with a glare in my direction. I could feel the heat of his anger on the side of my face. "Ain't no way in hell, Dexter. Yer gonna get yerself killed."

Turning to look at him I lifted an eyebrow in challenge and at the annoying nickname he and his brother had given me. "And you'll get your brother back no worse for wear. Seems like you should be dancing like a cheerleader to me," I snorted.

I could tell Daryl was about to start up another argument, but was cut off by Rick as he finally spoke up, holding a silencing hand up to the other man as he stared at me worriedly. "I don't think I can allow that, Max. I don't want your death on my conscience," he mumbled softly and I couldn't supress the smirk despite the terror I felt rising in my chest and causing my hands to shake. I might have only known the man for a few hours, but damn if he wasn't the most honorably moral guy I'd ever met.

"Good thing I'm volunteering then, huh?" I choked out, my smile wavering slightly when I heard a moan of one of the passing undead a little closer to the van than I liked.

"Max, don't do this. I'll go. I'm faster," Glenn insisted even though I could see the fear crossing his own features.

"No, they need you to get to the department store. I'm the only other option," I replied, while nodding to him then doing the same to Rick, Daryl and T-Dog. None of them went against my point and although satisfied with that I was still quivering in my sneakers like an epileptic at a strobe light convention. "Where is it? The Department store. If I manage to get past all the Walkers and lose them, I'll meet you guys there."

None of them replied as they all looked to Glenn who suddenly blushed at the attention. The small man sighed, eyebrows furrowed in sadness as he looked back at me. "It's a block and a half that way," he said while lifting a finger in the direction the back of the van was facing. "Big brown building with an open front that used to have glass. You can't miss it."

"Got it," I nodded. "I'll lead the fuckers off in the opposite direction and give you guys a chance to get in with no trouble. Maybe that way I don't have to run so far." I finished my sentence with a slight chuckle, but it was ruined by my small frown of nervousness.

"You are one crazy son of a bitch," Rick mumbled with an encouraging smile that didn't meet his eyes as he patted my shoulder gently. "I wish you the best of luck, Max."

I laughed bitterly. "I don't believe in luck."

"Whatever the case, girl, you've got bigger balls than me," T-Dog interrupted with a snicker and gave me a wink, but the humor of the joke was lost in his worried expression.

I nodded to him and allowed my eyes to flash over the ever silent Daryl who sat glaring at his crossbow with so much force I thought it was about to burst into flames, but didn't dwell on it as Glenn gripped my arm. "I hate that you're doing this," he whimpered slightly, his voice sounding weak and fragile as he swallowed a lump in his throat.

"I do too, but someone has to do it, right? Just don't cry for me until you're sure I'm dead," I chuckled, placing a hand over his. "And if you see me as one of them." I looked over to Daryl at this point and his blue eyes flickered up to mine. "You send an arrow right through my goddamn head."

He nodded shortly, jaw clenching as I felt Glenn's hand slide away. "Let's hope it don't come to that," he grumbled.

Curling my hand into a fist I held it up to my closest friend for the past two months. "So long, Robin Hood. Maybe I'll see you on the other side."

The redneck snorted and he shook his head, lifting his own fist to bump our knuckles together. I grinned slightly, knowing he hated both the gesture and his newly acquired nickname. "Ain't gonna happen," he snarled, pointing a finger at me angrily though I had a feeling it was just a cover for his worry. "The second ya get a chance, ya get yer ass outa dodge, ya hear me?" I nodded at him, giving him a small smile. "I ain't leavin' this city without you _or_ Merle. I expect ya alive next time I see ya, Dexter."

Scoffing slightly I gave another half-smile. "No promises."

He scowled at me then I turned to Rick as he spoke up again. "If it means anything, I'm not leavin' without you either," he said with a stubborn nod.

"Me neither," Glenn agreed.

"Same here," added T-Dog.

My eyes widened and I finally gave a genuine smile. "Gee, don't I feel special. I guess I better stay alive then, huh?" I chuckled.

"Damn straight," Daryl snapped.

Giving them one last shake of my head my smile slowly fell as I pulled myself to my feet slowly to peer out through the windows while my hand tightened on the handle of my machete. My eyes widened when I saw just how many Walkers were on the other side just mulling around and swaying on their weak limbs, coagulated blood oozing from open decayed wounds that had flesh hanging off in chunks. Someone with a weaker stomach would have puked at the mere site, let alone the smell, but I swallowed hard and adjusted the grip on my weapon once again in nervousness.

There had to at least be twenty to thirty of them there, just standing or swaying, moaning and gurgling. Looking up to the left of me in the direction I'd be leading them off in I was somewhat relieved to find it almost clear. If I was lucky I'd turn down a street or two that were practically empty; the less following and cornering me the better.

I saw my chance to dash from behind the van to the next car parked beside it, then the next and the next until I was a good half block down the street from the men still behind the van and watching me with bated breath as the Walkers still didn't notice my presence. Unfortunately, it was getting to that time I'd have to run out onto the street because the small car I was currently behind was the last in the row, the next vehicle being too far away to safely get to without being noticed. Turning my head to look at the guys all watching me a ways away, I gave them a mock salute and a wave, the wave being the only gesture that was returned. In that moment it hit me full blast like a punch to the stomach that this was probably the last time I'd ever see them despite their encouraging words. It hardly shocked me that I would be missing Daryl the most.

Peeking over the car at the thinned out group of Walkers on the street I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves, which didn't really work I might add, then after counting mentally to three I jumped on the hood of the vehicle, the aluminum bending under my weight and catching the attention of most of the Walkers in my immediate vicinity. Lifting two fingers to my lips I let out a piercingly loud whistle that gathered the rests attention.

"Come and get me, you ugly fuckers!" I shouted loudly, smacking my jean clad thigh with my machete-less hand. Immediately the Walkers all turned in my direction, hands lifting and reaching out for a fresh piece of meat, feet shuffling on the concrete and moans emerging from their torn lips. Their eyes were trained on me like a hawk's and I swallowed the fear that fought a war inside my chest. There was no turning back now; they saw me and they were hungrier than shit with no food left in the city, I was like a walking cake to a starving fat man to them. My only chance was to run like hell and hope the others got to the department store and that I didn't run into another horde.

Before they could get too close, I jumped off the car and bolted up the street at a sprint with a speed I hadn't accomplished since high school. The Walkers followed me slower than I expected and a few times I actually slowed down a bit to allow them to keep their focus on me and not on the guys who were taking their chance to run the opposite way. I heard a Walker's moan before it had the chance to grab at my shoulder and dig its teeth into my skin with its infected jaws by swinging my machete around to chop its disgusting dead head off. The body part as well as the body fell to the ground, jaw still snapping as I kicked the head hard enough to knock another Walker to the ground. Laughing slightly I pulled the other hunting knife I had gotten from Daryl out and brandished both blades at my sides after looking over my shoulder to make sure no more were sneaking up on my back.

"Thanks, Daryl!" I screamed as loudly as I could, hoping the hunter heard me before I took off again, not staying long enough to watch the guys bolt down the other way.

I ducked into a few other streets, still yelling and shouting to keep their attention, narrowly getting snagged a couple times as I past more Walkers who were on their own only to end up joining my growing horde of followers. I wasn't the most graceful of girls either so there were a few times when I lost my footing and thanked whatever cruel god that was up there that I had enough distance between me and the Walkers that I could get up and run again without being in danger of getting bit. My arms and knees were pretty scraped up though, blood already trickling down my limbs, and even my face stung from a nice fall I took after tripping over an abandoned bike. Luckily my glasses hadn't broken from the fall, but at this rate they'd be done for in no time at all.

I was getting tired of running. My breath was coming out in ragged gasps and I was coughing up phlegm. I needed to either find a place to hide or lose this damn horde soon because I was going to fall soon and not be able to get back up even with the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Turning another corner I breathed a silent thank you to the air when I saw it was empty and lined with cars on either side, debris flying everywhere in the light breeze. I pushed my legs harder to come up beside a fancy looking Mercedes Benz, begging quietly that what I was planning on doing was more genius than stupidity.

I kicked the door of the driver's side, but all I got back was a dull thud. Growling I kicked again, but had the same results. "Come on, damnit! Squeal you fucker! Why does this shit only work in the movies?!" I screamed in frustration. Finally I turned the handles of my two weapons in my hand to smash the window in and finally I had my desired result. The alarm of the vehicle immediately began to blare and echo in the streets and I allowed a small smile to grace my lips before hearing the moans of the dead coming closer.

Dashing off to the side I leapt onto the ladder of a fire escape just inside the entrance to an alley and climbed as fast as I could to the top of the two storey building. Upon reaching the roof I did a quick scan of its emptiness then moved forward to check the door that led inside. Thankfully it was unlocked, but I checked first to see if its stairwell was empty before allowing the door to close and rest my back against it. Heaving heavy breaths through my mouth I slid down the metal door to sit on the crunchy gravel of the roof and let out a breathless laugh of disbelief as my hands lost their grip on my weapons and let them rest on the ground on either side of me.

I made it. I'm actually still fucking alive right now. Relief flooded through me and my limbs lost all strength as I sagged in the gravel against the door behind me. It was a fucking miracle.

The car's alarm still screamed shrilly into the hot Georgian air, overriding the groans of the Walkers being attracted to it from at least a five block radius. Sweat coated my tired quivering skin in a shiny sheen that seeped into my cuts and scrapes with painful stings. Lifting an exhausted and blood covered hand I removed my glasses and closed my eyes as my breathing began to slow to a more normal rate. Soon I'd have to figure out a way off this roof without attracting the attention of the hundreds of Walkers that would no doubt be piling the street around that car.

When my breathing finally went back to normal I let out a sigh and replaced my glasses on my sweat slicked nose and pulled myself to my tired feet while taking my bloodied weapons back up into my hands. Turning to the door behind me I pulled it open again, wincing slightly when it let out a small creek and slowly made my way inside the darkened staircase. I kept my steps slow and as quiet as possible, listening for any sounds of Walkers. Thankfully I heard none until I was already on the ground level and sneaking out the back door of the jewelry store and could hear the echoing of the moans of the dead on the other side of the building where the car was.

I did this for the next hour, slipping from building to building and through alleys and back streets until I eventually made my way back to the street I had last been with the guys. I still stuck to the alleys as I made my way down and came to the street every once in a while just to make sure I didn't pass the department store, only meeting a few Walkers on the way. It took longer than I would have liked, but I found the department store not long after finishing off my last Walker. It was big and brown just like Glenn said and it looked like heaven to my eyes. Bolting across the street I crept into the building, my shoes crunching over the broken glass of the entrance.

I held my machete up and at the ready, just in case any Walkers had wondered in here while the guys were on the roof. Hopefully they were still there, or at least still in the building. They promised they'd be here, waiting for me. I couldn't stop another bout of fear from clawing at my throat, begging me to let out the sobs I had forced down since deciding to go on this suicide mission.

I found the stairwell at the back of the building and started up slowly, still aware and ready for a Walker to jump out of any of the doors or dark corners I passed, but when passing the third floor, the business floor, I could definitely hear Daryl's very distinct voice shout out for his brother. Wanting to cry again but this time in happiness I threw the door open, forgetting that I still had to be careful and tore into the hallways looking for the men I so stupidly came into this city with. My dark dirty hair whipped around my face as I checked every room I passed, feet shuffling along the carpet as I dashed about, desperate to find them and refusing to let the thought in my head pass that maybe I was imagining Daryl's voice.

But then coming down one of the last hallways I saw T-Dog's back in the doorway of a room that was labeled as the lounge and almost laughed and cried at the same time. Instead I cried out in happiness. "T-Dog!" I shouted and began running. The black man spun around in shock, dropping the tool box he held and brandishing the Bo cutters in defense, but the moment he caught sight of me it was already too late as I crashed into him in a bone crushing hug that even left me breathless. The poor guy had moved the cutters out of the way just in time as I plowed into him and he cried out in surprise as well as a few other voices. I was so relieved to see a familiar face that I had tears pouring from my eyes the second I felt T-Dog return my abrupt gesture, the salty liquid disrupting my vision. He soothed me as I cried into his shoulder, clenching his dirty blue muscle shirt in my shaking hands after releasing my weapons and letting them tumble to the floor.


	9. Chapter 9

When hugging T-Dog and half crying-half laughing into his shoulder my feet had left the ground enough to have the tips of my toes brush the carpet leaving the poor guy to practically hold me up. It felt like hours that I cried like this, but it must have only really been seconds because not long after I almost tackled him, he was lowering me back to the floor and I was being crowded by all four of them. I tore my glasses from my face to wipe the tears from my eyes, my smile so big that it hurt the scrape on my left cheekbone.

"Holy shit, Max! Are you alright?" I heard Glenn ask and next I felt a gentle hand on my shaking shoulder. I couldn't manage a coherent reply; my voice coming out in a rasp as I finally opened my eyes and replaced my glasses. Realizing I couldn't vocalize my relief quite yet I nodded vigorously.

"Jesus," cursed T-Dog as he finally released me to stand on my own while taking a small step back, but was still close enough to have a hand by my shoulder. "You're hurt, girl."

Nodding again, I looked down at my injuries, noticing for the first time just how bad I must have looked. A gooey mix of dirt, blood and sweat created a nice messy layer over top of the scrapes on my forearms and holes were torn into my jeans exposing the same condition of my knees. My face probably didn't look any better either. Tearing my eyes from my wounds I looked up at the four other men who stared at me in worry, except for Daryl whose eyebrows were scrunched up as if he didn't know how he was supposed to be feeling.

"Y-yeah," I croaked out then coughed slightly to clear my throat of the phlegm that had accumulated. "I tripped a couple times and the damn asphalt got in my way." I finished my sentence with a small laugh and a shrug as I looked to Daryl. "Where's Merle?"

The man's expression fell into a sneer again and he glanced at the others who had fallen silent and went out of their way to avoid his angry gaze. I felt the fear collect inside me again, but this time it wasn't for me.

"Dunno. We're lookin' for him," the redneck finally replied before he turned away from my wide-eyed stare.

"Looking for him?" I exclaimed a little louder than I should have, my fear subsiding just a little as I too looked around at each man with me who now avoided my stare. "Where the fuck is he going to go? He was handcuffed to a goddamn roof!" Silence followed my outburst and realization dawned on me in that moment that maybe they weren't looking for _Merle_, but Merle's _body_. I paled at the thought. "Oh shit, Daryl… Is he a…?" I couldn't bring myself to finish the thought out loud.

Daryl's sneer deepened and he glared at me before Rick stepped between us and held up his hand to stop whatever potential argument that might have started. "We don't know that yet," he said softly, his lips curving into a frown.

My worry was beat out by my rising anger. "Yet? How can you not know?"

"He wasn't on the roof, Max," Glenn spoke up from my side gently and my head whipped in his direction. He stuttered at my glare. "I-I mean, he wasn't all there. His hand was."

"What?" I barked in confusion and anger. I hated that I was making the poor guy scared; he was after all a decent kid and one that I almost considered a friend, but Merle was my friend too and I wanted straight fucking answers.

Sighing Rick stepped up to me again, giving Glenn a slightly exasperated look. "He cut his own hand off to get out of the cuffs and that was all we found of him when we got up there," he explained. I lifted a hand to my hair and gripped at it, pulling at my dark tresses in frustration. Of course, leave it to Merle _fucking_ Dixon to escape certain death with only one hand. Jesus, if the man was actually nice and trustworthy I would have called him a god.

"That's why we're looking for him," T-Dog added as he heaved up the tool box he had dropped when I hugged him. "Daryl followed his trail of blood down here. That right there is his handy work." He used the Bo cutters in his one hand to gesture to the two dead Walkers lying next to a bloodied wrench on the floor. At his words both Daryl and I glared at him and he gave an awkward half-smile. "No pun intended."

"Jesus Christ," I swore, rolling my eyes heavenward before bending to pick up my dropped weapons. "Well, let's haul ass, boys. We have a cripple to find." I came up next to Daryl at my last words and he scowled at me for them, but I simply raised an eyebrow daring him to say anything about it. Scoffing he shook his head as he and Rick took the lead.

"Are you sure you don't want to rest for a couple minutes, Max? You look pretty beat," tried Glenn nervously as he came up to my side and immediately I shook my head no.

"Merle's got one hand and is probably bleeding like a motherfucker right now and you want us to stop so that I can catch my breath and poke at a couple scrapes? Fuck that," I snorted in return while shoving the hunting knife back into its sheath at my hip and holding my machete close.

Glenn nodded and fell silent, but I heard T-Dog chuckle behind us. "Damn, girl, you spend too much time with those Dixons. You're starting to sound like them," he laughed.

Lifting an eyebrow, I looked over my shoulder at the black man and grinned cheekily, ignoring the sting of pain caused by my cheek. "You never knew me before all this, so how do you know I wasn't always this vulgar?"

"Good point," he snickered back.

Daryl and Rick led us slowly and cautiously through a few more hallways, going farther into the building and following the trail of blood drops that I guess was made from Merle. At some point during our silent trek I bent down and took a page out of Daryl's book to inspect one of the large drops as the rest of them kept moving on. T-Dog had glanced at me as he passed, but I had shaken my head at him and waved my hand to tell him to keep moving.

I bent down to touch the spot and ran my fingers around the edges before moving them to the middle, the tips becoming stained with the sticky red liquid. It didn't take an idiot to realize that Merle had come through here not too long ago, possibly minutes. The edge of the blotch was already drying and crusted, but the middle was still very wet and cold meaning we were just barely behind him. I wondered briefly if we yelled loud enough that he would hear us and backtrack, but I highly doubted it.

Daryl without having to physically touch the evidence of Merle's trail, of course, must have had the same thought because as I pulled myself to stand up again and jog to catch up with them at the end of the hall where it looked like some sort of kitchen. He called out his brother's name as he peered through the opening. Beside him Rick hushed him.

"We're not alone here. Remember?" the man growled warningly. If it were directed to anyone else they would have probably shrunk back in shame or some similar action, but this was Daryl Dixon; fear, shame and guilt weren't emotions I think he'd let himself feel. Not even flinching at the officer's tone he continued to sweep his eyes over the room as I caught up to the back, T-Dog giving me a short glance.

"Screw that," Daryl drawled then slunk past Rick while raising his crossbow a little higher. "Could be bleedin' out. Said so yourself."

The rest of us followed the two as they moved farther into the room and I slowly made my way to the front when I caught a flicker of something bright in the corner of my eye. Right in front of us was a stove, but sitting on the burners were a couple of cans that were lit on fire at the top. Beside them were a few forgotten iron pans, a hunk of metal with a handle and a black leather belt that was very familiar. All around the area was blood, some of it dried and others still wet and fresh, dripping down the side of the appliance. The smell of kerosene and something burnt immediately met my nostrils as I came up to Daryl's side.

Rick reached out and picked up the hunk of metal to inspect it and I looked over Daryl's shoulder to have a look as well. On the flat part was a dark blob with flaking bits on it that reminded me of overcooked meet on a barbeque. My lip curled into a sneer at the sight.

"What's that burnt stuff?" Glenn asked quietly as if he was scared to speak too loud.

Rick was the one to reply as he too stared at it with a frown. "Skin. He cauterized the stump."

The poor kid looked ready to barf. His already pale face flushed of color almost completely and he swallowed hard as if holding back the bile. Rick silently set the metal back down onto the stove as Daryl gave him a somewhat smug look. "Told ya he's tough," he said. "Nobody can kill Merle, but Merle." I lifted an eyebrow before nodding in agreement; after knowing the Dixons for the past month or so I was pretty sure the guy would overdose on one drug or another before falling to the dead.

"Don't take that on faith," Rick replied although he did look pretty impressed. Hell, I was surprised the guy was still alive and walking around with enough sense considering his blood loss coupled with the blinding pain and drugs coursing through him. Rick thought the same no doubt because he added, "He's lost a lot of blood."

"Yeah?" Daryl drawled as he moved past me and away from the rest of us. "Didn't stop him from bustin' outa this death trap." The four of us followed as he came up to a small window in the corner of the room. The glass was shattered, decorating the floor and stone ledge of the department store with glass as well as a bloodied white cloth rested on the edge.

"He left the building? Why the hell would he do that?" Glenn exclaimed in surprise and I turned to the Asian with a raised eyebrow.

"Wouldn't you?" I asked in a quiet snort. He glanced at me for a moment before looking back at Rick and Daryl who leaned over slightly to look out the window.

Daryl looked at me as well with a nod before craning his neck to look at the rest of the few windows surrounding the one broken one. "Yeah. He's all alone as far as he knows," he added. "Doin' what he's gotta do. Survivin'."

"You call _that_ surviving?" T-Dog asked incredulously as Daryl moved back from the window and to my side. "Just wandering the streets maybe passing out? What are his odds out there, huh?"

"No worse than bein' handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks," Daryl shot back while shoving his crossbow into my hands causing me to stumble and scramble to hold onto the damn thing. Spinning around to glare at the rest of them dead on Daryl didn't notice my fumbling around. Although I was slightly surprised at this –Daryl had never even let me _touch_ his precious crossbow before –I had to sigh slightly at his continued anger towards them as he moved to get right up on Rick's face. One would think that coming back to get Merle's sorry fucked up ass was a good enough compensation for the wrong they did the day before, but Daryl was more stubborn than a mule and just wouldn't let it go. Not that I'd tell him that to his face, of course.

"You couldn't kill him," he said to Rick smugly. "Ain't so worried about some dumb dead bastard."

"What about a thousand dumb dead bastards?" Rick countered. "Different story?"

"You could take a tally. Do what you want. I'm gonna go get him."

And then he tried to shove past the cop, but Rick didn't like that so much and pushed Daryl back with one hand. "Daryl, wait!"

"Get yer hands of me!" the younger Dixon shouted, getting back into Rick's face. For a moment I considered setting the crossbow down to hold Daryl back, or maybe even tackle him to the ground, but I'd probably end up with a couple bruises myself for that. "Can't stop me!"

"I don't blame you. He's family, I get that," Rick reasoned sternly, staring Daryl down in a way only Merle and I ever dared to. "I went through hell to find mine. I know exactly how you feel." Daryl remained silent except for the slow deep breath he took, but even I could see his shoulders lose some of the tension. "He can't get far with that injury. We could help you check a few blocks around, but only if we keep a level head."

Again I was shocked at the kind yet demanding authority Rick had. It demanded respect and attention and I had no doubt that it was this quality as well as his caring and understanding nature that made him a Sherriff in the first place. He wasn't a cocky prick like Shane or a bitchy asshole like Merle. He deserved the respect people gave him because he earned it; he didn't demand it out of fear or intimidation.

After a slight pause, Daryl's head barely moved with an acknowledging nod. "I can do that."

Nodding himself, Rick then looked away from the slowly calming redneck and to the rest of us for confirmation. Instantly I nodded, Merle was my friend too after all, but Glenn stayed silent as T-Dog shook his head in exasperation. "Only if we get those guns first," he said. "I'm not strolling the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, ok?"

"That sounds reasonable," Rick nodded then looked to Daryl as if daring him to argue, but the man ignored him and came back to my side while holding out his hand for his crossbow. I handed it back to him without a second thought and his eyes lifted to meet mine as I gave him a gentle smile. He didn't return the gesture, or even acknowledge me farther as he turned back around to the other men with a slightly clenched jaw.

"We should hole up in one of those offices," Glenn suddenly suggested while lifting a finger to point at the way we had come. "Figure out a plan to get those guns. I highly doubt the streets will be clear of Walkers."

"Sounds good," Rick agreed and a moment later he was leading us back towards the hallways we entered from with a purposeful stride. Daryl was about to follow the other three when I placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He flinched away from my touch and turned to send a glare at me.

I ignored his crude stare as I sheathed my machete back in its holder before giving him a meaningful look of my own. "I'm going to help you find him, Daryl. You know that right?" I asked gently.

He didn't say anything for a few moments as we listened to the others' steps move farther away. After a while he nodded and turned his head away as we too began to walk back side by side. I kept my eyes on him, though, and he must have realized I wanted a verbal answer when he mumbled back a, "Yeah."

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes in annoyance I tried again. "I promise. I don't care how long it takes. As long as you're looking for him, I will too."

He suddenly stopped and turned back to stare at me, his glare back in place as well as his scowl. "Why do ya care, huh? He ain't yer brother," he growled.

Raising my eyebrows at him I adopted a look that always terrified me as a kid when my grandma got angry. Crossing my arms over my chest, I set both feet firmly shoulder width apart as I stared at him with hard eyes. Instantly I saw his glare falter slightly as it was clear he wasn't expecting me to retaliate. "He might as well be given the circumstances and the shit the three of us have been through together. He's still my friend, Daryl," I snapped. "And because he saved my life before and _you've_ saved my life before and it's because of that that I will help _you_ find _your_ brother." He blinked as I took a step closer to him, a glare of my own settling in. "And you're my friend too; it's called _loyalty_. For fuck's sake, next time just say 'thank you'."

With that I stormed passed him, following the silhouettes of the others as they veered off into one of the offices, my feet stomping on the carpet in frustration and ignoring Daryl's much slower and calmer steps behind me. I know Daryl wasn't the friendliest guy, hell it was like chopping off a body part just to get a smile out of him, but I was offering my help to find his one family member, he shouldn't be bitching about it! I would have gotten down on my knees and cried my heart out to him in thanks if I was in his position, really. He was lucky to even have a family member with him at the end of the world; for all I knew mine were all dead or reanimated back in Canada and I wasn't even there to put them out of their misery.

I mumbled obscenities to myself as I marched away like some sort of angry giant animal –an elephant perhaps; wait no, I wasn't quite that large. Whatever. I stomped; leave the metaphors out of it.

Just before I could turn into the office the others had disappeared in I felt Daryl's rough hand on my arm as he turned me around to face him, successfully halting me in my steps. I was ready to snap at him again, proverbially biting his head off for interrupting my girlishly teenaged way of departure, but for the life of me my sour mood melted almost instantly when I saw the look on his dirty sweaty face. His haunted blue eyes were downcast to the grey carpeted floor and his lips were set into a thin-lipped frown and if I didn't know any better I would have thought I saw regret or guilt or even shame in his usually stony, yet slightly irritated, features.

He gave a short sigh and closed his eyes briefly as if needing to gather his courage then looked up at my expectant brown eyes staring at him through my dirty glasses that I attempted to keep on my face by tilting my head up slightly as they were slowly sliding down my nose. I probably looked like some sort of odd bird with the angle it was at and the look on my face was probably no better. Whatever he wanted to say to me I knew it wasn't easy and I didn't want to ruin his attempt at being caring, or even civil, by raising my hand to shove my glasses back into place. So, I waited and thankfully wasn't disappointed.

"I'm sorry," he grumbled, his irritation already setting back in place in his usual Daryl manner. Jesus, he was saying it like I was holding a gun to his chestnuts and threatening to blow them to pieces and spread them around for Walker bait all bloodied and mutilated and such.

Excuse my oddly detailed and kind of gross imagination. I even scare myself with it sometimes.

Unable to stop myself from smiling, I gave Daryl a wide grin and finally pushed my glasses back up, giving the hunter a half assed shrug like the whole thing wasn't a big deal. It was, just to clarify; I mean, how often can you get an 'I'm sorry' out of a pissed off redneck with family issues and a temper you could compare to the Hulk's? My neck returned to a more comfortable position and practically screamed a thank you when the aching that had started stopped instantly.

"You're forgiven," I chirped and moved to go into the office with a skip in my step, but Daryl's hand that was still holding my arm pulled me back again and I almost fell into him with the unexpected tug. Stumbling, I turned back to him with an eyebrow raised and the action caused the scratch on my face to sting slightly. I winced at it but trained my brown eyes back on Daryl's blue ones curiously.

As his other hand that wasn't on me held this crossbow to his shoulder, his calloused fingers wrapped lazily around the strap, he nodded his head to gesture towards me, his eyes drifting away from mine. "Ya should clean that scrape and the others. Don't know what kinda shit coulda gotten in it," he grunted and I lifted my hand again to gingerly prod at the marred flesh that stung once again in response.

"Yeah probably," I shrugged again. I knew I should be worried at least a little bit considering the asphalt I cut myself on probably had Walker guts dragged across it at one point or another, but I couldn't for some reason.

Daryl raised a light brown eyebrow at me obviously a little shocked that I was so nonchalant about it. Honestly I could hardly believe it myself. I should have been freaking out right now wondering if I'd get infected and turn into one of those disgusting things. "I'm sure Chinaman's got a bottle of water or somethin' in his bag," he continued as if that would help me realize the gravity of having a cut, or multiple in my case, that could possibly slowly kill me until death took over. Or would it be undeath?

"I don't know. Let's go ask him," I said and now it was my turn to drag him. As I turned to enter the room his hand dropped from my bicep, but I caught his forearm before I could get too far and pulled him into the room with me, ignoring his irritated grunt at being touched. Other than that though he didn't protest, which I found pretty weird 'cause he's all gung-ho about the no touching rule, but whatever, he probably just felt bad for blowing up at me earlier. That I didn't understand either; Daryl wasn't the kind of guy that would feel guilty about that sort of thing. When he talked it was to let his opinion be known and he didn't give a damn who he offended.

It was for his sake that I dropped his arm when we approached the other three men who sat huddled together amongst desks and rolling chairs, talking quietly. God only knew how much he would hate me if he ever got teased or anything for letting someone, let alone a girl, touch him. Without even bothering to be polite and interrupt with an 'excuse me' like most people would, I tapped my hand on a desk that I came up beside to grab their attention. All three halted their conversation and looked at me with wide eyes almost like they were scared I was going to be a Walker or something. I raised my eyebrow at this, but shrugged it off as I ignored both T-Dog and Rick to look directly at Glenn who immediately swallowed in nervousness.

"Oi, buddy," I said, nodding in gesture to him and the bag that he still had on his back. "Please tell me you've got a bottle of water in that thing."

The Asian blinked at me in confusion for a moment and I raised my other eyebrow to join the first expectantly. The kid blushed and stuttered embarrassedly while he shrugged the bag off and set it in his lap. "Yeah, sure," he mumbled with a nod, but then as he moved to unclip the top of it he immediately paused then retracted his hand as if the thing was on fire. His previous flush left his cheeks and turned pale and he swallowed again, looking just as sick as he had before when we were in the kitchen with Merle's redneck cauterizing tools.

Before I could say anything he grabbed the strap and held the bag out to me and his eyes averted from both me and the object in his hand. Confused as hell, I took the bag and set in on the floor while looking to the others in the room for an answer. Rick and T-Dog looked almost as uncomfortable as Glenn, but Daryl was behind me still so I couldn't really tell what he looked like. What the hell? It was just a bag.

I unclipped the top with a shake of my head at their behaviors and flipped the top open. Immediately two things caught my eyes; one being the large blue water bottle that sat nestled into the side of the bag amongst a few cans of beans and a sweater and the second was a blue cloth that had a dark stain on one side of it. It was wrapped around something and I had a disturbing feeling I knew what that something was.

Momentarily forgetting about the water I reached in and procured the blue bundle instead to inspect it with some sort of sick curiosity. As soon as it was in view of the others the three in front of me immediately turned away and Glenn even let out a gag. I didn't blame him, the smell of iy was horrible; forget my dad's shop in the summer when he was cutting up meat, this thing _rank_.

I didn't drop it like most probably would have. Instead I wrinkled my nose and looked over my shoulder at Daryl who stood watching me a few feet away. His crossbow was no longer slung over his shoulder and instead rested peacefully against one of the desks with the arrow pointed down. I didn't unwrap the bloody cloth, I didn't need to confirm that inside was Merle's missing hand, I knew it was just from the smell and the blood and the size of the bundle.

"Really, Daryl?" I scoffed with a short incredulous laugh. "Really? Why the fuck would you take his hand?" Shaking my head again I replaced the body part in the bag and pulled out the bottle of water and stood, leaving the bag where it was, open and everything, as I turned to face the hunter completely. "What are you going to do when we find him, huh? Sew it back on?" I laughed again as I moved to take a seat in one of the rolling chairs nearby.

I looked up at Daryl for his response, but he only scowled in return and didn't say anything as he set his glare on me yet again. I shrugged it off as I hiked my jeans up over my knees and hissed more at the sight of my torn up skin rather than the pain I felt when the fabric brushed over it. Sighing once again I frowned as I looked at my knees and my exposed arms that showed the scrapes on my forearms. Now that I actually took a second to look at them and see the damage I suddenly felt sad, the stinging wasn't helping much either.

"Anybody got a rag to clean this shit with?" I mumbled grumpily and glanced around at my companions.

"Sorry. Mine is around Merle's hand," T-Dog apologized as Rick and Glenn shook their heads. In front of me Daryl stepped closer while taking the red cloth he always kept with him from his pocket and held it out to me as I scrunched up my nose.

"Ew, no fucking way, Robin Hood," I hissed and ignored another glare he directed at me. "I used that thing to clean dead man blood from my gun and your skin urine is all over it. No thank you." Daryl scoffed, throwing up his hands at his sides in exasperation as he turned away grumbling something about 'prudy bitches' under his breath. It was my turn to glare at him. "I fucking heard that."


	10. Chapter 10

Eventually I decided that the only thing I could make due with was cutting the pants off my jeans bellow my knees and tearing them into smaller strips. I mean, what the hell, right? It was Georgia and it was fucking hot out; I must have been fucking crazy to wear pants. Besides, the fabric rubbing against my knees would only make them hurt more and they were clean for the most part so why not? I had used Daryl's hunting knife to slice off the fabric easily enough and used the least amount of water that I could from the water bottle to clean away the dirt from both my arms and my knees and it worked surprisingly well. I was a little shocked at how deep some of the cuts were; all red and angry looking with blood and pus still oozing from some of the larger gashes. As the others went to it trying to figure out a plan to get to the guns I was only half paying attention when I ran into a dilemma of my own.

How the fuck was I going to clean my face when I couldn't even see it?

My frown probably looked like a pout you'd find on a petulant child by the time I was soaking my last clean strip of denim with water and attempted to find the edges of the scratches blindly. With my glasses being in the way I was struggling, but without a mirror I was hopeless. Then again even if I did have one I'd still be just as incompetent. Without my glasses, looking into my own blurry image in the mirror would still prove to be difficult for this kind of task. Huffing in frustration I dropped my hands to my lap and pouted fully this time.

From my right I suddenly saw a hand reach over and grab the strip of jeans from my hands and I jumped slightly in surprise when Daryl came completely into my line of vision. I blinked up at him in confusion, but he pointed to my glasses with a dirty finger. "Ya look like yer havin' some trouble there, Dexter. Take them damn things off so I can help ya properly," he demanded in his usual gruff manner. I immediately did as he said and removed my glasses and folded them in my lap even if I was surprised at his abruptly kind, although gruff, offer.

Gentler then I ever would have thought possible from the redneck he dabbed at the scratches that started above my left eyebrow and I blinked a few times to avoid the water from dribbling into my eye. When he was done there he continued around the side and on my cheekbone and I couldn't help but stare at him even if he was just a blur. Even so, it seemed to irk Daryl and I could see the dark line that made up his lips turn into a frown.

"Quit starin' at me, woman," he growled and I blinked again.

"Why not? You're nothing more than just a peach blob with a couple small darker blobs thrown in to me," I snickered. Man, I would have loved to see the look on his face right now.

"I don't care," he snapped as he continued his still gentle ministrations on my cheek. "It's creepin' me out. Stop it." Holding back my giggle I couldn't help the grin that curved my lips. For this I got a reprimanding smack on my forehead from Daryl then he used that same hand to grip my chin and held it still while the first still dabbed at the rest of my cheek. "And quit movin' or this'll take longer." I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.

We fell into silence as I closed my eyes for Daryl's sake. I figured his sanity and my chances of getting my wounds cleaned were at stake if I attempted to stare at him any longer. Though it was a little nerve racking that he was touching me so much, I had to force myself to calm down a little because being so close to him made me notice a lot of things. He smelled, for one, but it wasn't nearly as bad as Merle could get and there was a distinct undertone of campfire and cigarette smoke. I could feel the rough pads of his fingers on my chin as he gently held me still and it scratched lightly at my skin and I could feel his even warm breaths fanning my face. You have no idea how many different things I had to think of in order to distract myself from getting a girl boner.

Thank god those are invisible.

Because of the sudden silence we were able to hear now how the gun retrieval plan was going and from what I could gather it wasn't going so good. The three of them were talking in hushed tones and I could hear some sort of squeaking and crinkling mixing in with it. They were still juggling ideas around, almost completely ignoring me and Daryl until Glenn suddenly spoke up again.

"How about this; I go alone along this street here and you guys are my back up?" he said quickly. "I go alone. I can move faster that way."

Holy shit that kid had balls. I mean, I kinda did the same thing not too long ago, but the poor guy seemed like he had anxiety issues sometimes.

Silence reigned after his idea spouted from him and I even felt Daryl's hand pause for a moment on my cheek.

"You're not doin' this alone," Rick finally spoke up, no doubt shaking his head and putting his hands on his hips in that cop-ish way most officers did.

"Even I think it's a bad idea and I don't even like you much," I heard Daryl scoff from above me, his warm breath breezing over my forehead lightly. My eye twitched. When the fuck was he going to be done? I was starting to get a headache.

"It's a good idea," Glenn insisted. Oh man, I _really_ want to open my eyes. Hurry up, Daryl! "Ok? Just hear me out."

Daryl's hand and the wet cloth finally left my cheek and I felt him lightly tap my shoulder as a sign that he was done and I had to stop myself from sighing in relief. As gentle as he was while he was doing it, practically feeling him hovering over me almost caused me to start squirming uncomfortably. As my eyes fluttered open I replaced my glasses on my nose and nodded my thanks to the man while he tossed the dirty strip of denim over his shoulder and placed the half empty bottle of water on the desk next to us. He nodded in return then his arms crossed over his chest as he faced everyone else to listen to Glenn's idea and I swiveled in my chair to look at him as well.

"If we go out there in a group we're slow. Drawing attention. If I'm alone I can move fast," he explained. "Look." It was then that I noticed the crude drawing on the floor he made of the streets with the black dry erase marker he held in his hand. There were sketched out blocks for buildings and a few scrunched up sticky notes as well as a few other office supplies laid out on the drawn in streets. Picking up a black paper clip, the younger man continued as he placed it on another spot. "That's the tank five blocks from where we are now." He picked up a crumpled yellow chunk and set it beside the clip. "That's the bag of guns." He pointed to the next area and kept going. "Here's the alley I dragged you into when we first met. That's where Daryl and I will go."

"Why me?" asked the redneck and I was almost surprised his tone wasn't as condescending as it usually would have been. Even I had to admit the kid seemed to know what he was talking about and had a good eye for strategy; after all, he was the one who knew the city the best and all the good places to hide. He got us into the city; we'll have to trust him to get our asses out.

"Your crossbow is quieter than his gun," the Asian explained simply and I looked back at Daryl who hesitated before giving him an understanding nod and even offered him a slight smile. Glenn placed another object to the spot he had previously pointed to. "While Daryl waits in the alley I run up the street and grab the bag."

"But you got us elsewhere?" Rick asked using a hand to gesture to himself, T-Dog and me as he looked at the man beside him.

"You and T-Dog. Right," Glenn said and grabbed a pink eraser and placed it on the corner of a building. "You'll be in this alley here."

"Two blocks away? Why?" Rick questioned.

"I might not be able to come back the same way," Glenn answered with a shake of his head. "Walkers might cut me off. If that happens I won't go back to Daryl, I'll go forward instead all the way around to that alley where you guys are. Whichever direction I go I got you in both places to cover me. Afterwards we'll all meet back here."

As all the men nodded in agreement I couldn't help but scowl slightly. Where the fuck was I in this grand plan? As I turned back and forth in my chair lazily while listening to all this I raised my hand to catch the Asian's attention. "Question," I quipped and suddenly four pairs of eyes were on me. Lowering my hand again and lacing my fingers on my belly like some sort of evil genius I shrugged my shoulders curiously. "Where the hell am I in all this?"

Glenn hesitated for a moment, looking almost ashamed again. "Considering your injuries I thought it might be best you hang back here and wait for us to come back," he said softly as if afraid to tell me. Fucker was right to, too.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" I scoffed and even heard Daryl chuckle quietly from beside me. Yeah, damn right he knew I wouldn't be sitting this out. "You expect me to sit here while you guys go play army? I don't fucking care that I'm injured, I'm not just going to just sit here."

Letting out a sigh of frustration Glenn placed another crumpled sticky note next to where Daryl's object was. I felt a little girly happiness that it was blue, my favorite color. "Fine. You can go with Daryl in the alley. If he needs to use his crossbow it takes a while to reload and he'll have you there to watch his back," he said and raised his eyebrows at me expectantly. "Happy?"

My scowl from before disappeared and a grin spread across my lips. "Immensely."

"Hey, kid," Daryl suddenly spoke up as he looked over at Glenn. "What did ya do before all this?"

"Delivered pizzas," the younger man replied, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Why?"

Both T-Dog and I let out snorts of laughter and even Rick and Daryl had to smile and shake their heads in amusement before nodding in acceptance at each other. "_Way _too much fucking Call of Duty," I snickered to myself even as Glenn looked to each of us, bemusement written all over his face.

"I don't get it," he complained when no one answered his previous question. As everyone dispersed to check over their weapons T-Dog stepped up to the younger man and patted his shoulder.

"We'll tell you when you're older, man," he teased then with one final pat he moved away to do his own thing while Glenn almost seemed to pout much like I had done not too long ago.

Thinking about my marred flesh again elicited a light throbbing on my cheek that matched the pain in my arms and knees and I couldn't stop myself from reaching up and prodding at the scrapes there. The bleeding had stopped, thank god, but they hadn't quite scabbed over yet so when my finger made contact I flinched at the stinging. I felt a familiar smack on my shoulder and blinked as I retracted my hand to snap my eyes over to Daryl who narrowed his own back at me. I was actually pretty shocked, once again, that he was suddenly all touchy-touchy when normally being three feet close to someone had him flinching away like they were on fire.

He pointed a finger at me in accusation.

"Quit pokin' at it. It ain't gonna heal if ya keep touchin' it," he snapped almost gently.

I was going to comment on his touchiness at first, but decided to ignore it and instead asked something else. "How bad is it really?"

He stopped pointing and used the hand to scratch at his chin. "Ain't too bad, I s'pose," he mumbled thoughtfully, his blue gaze wandering over my face. "If ya don't scratch at it too much it might not scar too bad. No promises though."

"Great," I drawled sarcastically with a roll of my eyes. "From now on just call me Scarface." Sighing with a frown I stood and dusted my hands off on my thighs groaning as the pressure my gun had on my lower back was released. I really should pay more attention and start removing that damn thing before I sit down.

Remembering that I was in the middle of a conversation when Daryl chuckled I turned my attention back to him. "Nah, Dexter sounds better to me," he said.

I scoffed and shook my head again. "Figures. I'll never get rid of that name."

"Ya might if ya got rid of them damn goggles," he replied teasingly and it was now my turn to smack him playfully. He didn't bother to flinch away and even grinned at me for it.

"I'd be blind without them, Dixon. So, unless you want your head accidentally blown off because of my bad vision, I'm keeping them," I snickered. "_Excuse me_ if you find them unappealing."

Daryl didn't answer and I didn't really expect him to either. It would have been a surprise, probably to both of us, if he did. Playing the attraction card was probably the worst thing I could ever do with a man like Daryl Dixon. I'm sure he had urges like everyone else, myself _definitely_ included, but there was no time for shit like that at the end of the world. I already had my suspicions that Shane and Lori were sneaking around and as ruggedly sexy as Daryl was I had no doubt in my mind that anything like that between us would be _extremely_ awkward. Really, the guy had a hard time _smiling_; imagine if we started tiptoeing around each other like a couple of hormonal teenagers.

Yeah, I don't really see that going well either.

Before moving away from the desk I snatched the bottle of water and took a drink then held it out to Daryl who still said nothing as he accepted it and also took a swig. When he handed it back to me I took another sip then walked back over to the bag that held Merle's hand, to which I still thoroughly shook my head at. Depositing the bottle both Daryl and I joined the others by the office door and I pulled my, sorry I mean Daryl's, machete from its sheath and held it at my side.

The four of us stayed silent, each with their own weapon ready, those that had one anyway; Glenn's hands were empty so he could grab the bag of guns easier and T-Dog's hands were also empty leaving me wondering if Daryl would be pissed if I leant him his hunting knife. Nah, probably shouldn't risk it. The poor guy was already in enough trouble with the younger Dixon as it was, but I still felt a little bad for not offering.

With his gun at the ready, Rick nodded to the rest of us and again we were skulking through the hallways just as silently as we had before. I stuck close to Daryl out of habit and heard his calm breathing and almost silent steps to my right. It helped me calm down my quickly escalating heart rate just knowing and reassuring myself that he was nearby ready to let loose one of his deadly arrows into anything that got too close. I tried my best to put up a cool front and be just as nonchalant as the man next to me, but anyone who knew me would have been able to spot my silent panic attack.

And really, you shouldn't blame me. Hardly two hours ago I was running for my life from these things, busting my ass so hard that I injured myself. My legs and chest still ached from all the cardio I did too. I insisted on coming on this field trip though so I had to stick to my guns and ride it out like the badass motherfucker I pretended to be.

Upon reaching the stairwell our two groups split ways. Rick and T-Dog nodded their goodbyes that had hidden 'good luck's in them before darting down the stone steps to get to their destination. That was when Glenn turned to me and Daryl fidgeting more nervously than I was.

"You guys ready for this?" he asked shakily, his brown eyes darting towards the other door on the landing that had a dead exit sign above it. A sign on the front let me know it led to the fire escape.

"Sure, putting my ass in danger 24/7 is what I live for. Just another day in apocalyptic paradise," I shrugged bitterly and heard a snort of laughter from Daryl as Glenn gulped nervously. He was definitely worse than me right now; I'd probably be the same if I had no weapon too.

"Alright, let's move."

I followed at the back of the line as Glenn pushed open the door and glanced around then gestured us closer with a wave of his hand. We joined him on the metal landing as he took hold of the yellow ladder that would be our escape to the ground. Just as Glenn had done before I looked to the alley and didn't see a Walker in sight.

Next to me Daryl shrugged the strap of his crossbow onto his shoulder and pointed to the ladder. "Ladies first," he said mockingly.

I tore my eyes away from the ground while Glenn started his decent below. "Nah, I'm good. You go first," I told him with a shake of my head as I put my machete away for the moment. The redneck snorted in amusement, but regardless took hold of the ladder and placed his feet on the appropriate rungs.

"Ya afraid of heights or somethin'?" he teased as he started downwards, having to almost hug the ladder so that his crossbow wouldn't catch on the guard rail around behind us.

After he was far enough down I followed them. "Nope, no problem with heights. I just want someone that's not half my size to catch me if I slip," I grinned. I heard Daryl snort and looked over my shoulder and down to watch as he shook his head. "Oh, and by the way. Keep your eyes off my ass." His head shot up to stare at me with slightly wide eyes, but he immediately averted them again with a scowl and I couldn't help but let out a triumphant chuckle.

Below us as he hit the ground we were shushed by Glenn and the situation we were in settled back into reality. Right; Walkers, guns, probable death. Joy.

Not long after me and Daryl were on the ground and had our weapons out and ready Glenn started off at a jog down the alley and we followed as silently as we could, dodging debris and garbage as we skittered from alley to alley. We hid behind garbage bins and around corners to avoid being spotted by the Walkers and we were lucky we didn't run into a single straggler until we came up to the end of an alley that had a fence blocking the end.

Glenn led us to hide between two garbage bins against the wall of a building and we crouched low as we watched a few Walkers stumble by the opening on the other side of the fence and Daryl pulled back the bow on his weapon.

"Ya got some balls for a Chinaman," he told the younger man and I held back a snicker when Glenn pulled off his over shirt and tossed it behind us, his movements slightly jerky either in irritation or anticipation or a mix of both.

"I'm Korean," he snapped quietly then dashed out from behind the dumpster and crept his way to the fence.

Loading an arrow, Daryl just scoffed a "Whatever."

Shaking my head, I took my place behind Daryl as he crouched and aimed around the large metal bin to cover Glenn as he disappeared through the fence. Holding the machete tightly in my one hand and peering around Daryl's side I couldn't stop myself from teasing the man. "Awe, look at you making friends," I said and could hear a sound come from Daryl that sounded almost like an animalistic growl.

"Shut it, Dexter."


	11. Chapter 11

Glenn had only been gone for a few seconds, his hurried footsteps quickly fading after leaving the alley, when Daryl and I heard a small commotion farther back behind us. Any Joking or teasing that could have continued after Glenn's departure was immediately cut short and the two of us instantly huddled in the corner between the larger garbage bin and the brick wall of the building it sat up against. Daryl held a finger to his lips in a sign to stay quiet and I nodded while adjusting my grip on the machete and he pressed his back to the metal behind him. His hands tightened and relaxed subconsciously on the hand holds of his crossbow, his head turned to the side so he could hear whoever it was, Walker or not, come up on us.

Glancing at me he gave a nod and I returned it when the slow footsteps got closer and were now only a few feet behind us. It was obvious now that whoever it was wasn't a Walker; its steps were too coordinated and purposeful and its breathing wasn't ragged and partially gurgled like that of the undead. I nodded at him again to let him now I was right behind him before Daryl shot to his feet and swerved around the dumpster to level his crossbow with skilled ease. I followed hardly a millisecond after with my machete raised.

"Whoa, don't shoot me!" came a startled voice and I looked past Daryl to see a kid no older than eighteen in a white wife beater and dark pants. I saw a glint of silver coming from his neck where a cross lay rested on a chain low on his collar. He was scrawny and his hair was so short he was almost bald and he looked terrified. He might have just been a kid, but Daryl didn't lower his crossbow as he advanced on him so I didn't lower my machete when he nodded for me to circle around him and block off his escape from the back. "What do you want?"

"Lookin' for my brother, he's hurt real bad. Ya seen him?" Daryl demanded roughly. It made the already nervous kid fidget even more and he looked over Daryl's shoulder.

"_İAyuda me!_" he yelled loudly and I swore under my breath as I saw a Walker or two on the street turn in our direction. At first I had felt sorry for the kid thinking he was just a lost survivor, but now I didn't care so much. What kind of dumbass screams at the top of his lungs when there are cannibalistic undead creatures around that are attracted to noise? A dumbass with sliced open calf muscles is what.

"Shut up!" Daryl and I hissed in unison and as Daryl took a threatening step closer to him I brought up my free hand to smack him in the back of his head. "Gonna bring the Geeks down on us! Answer me!" Daryl continued.

The kid just stared at him, his breathing becoming laboured and his shoulders heaving with the effort. I think he forgot I was even there because when I smacked him again he jumped like someone just lit a fire under his ass. And as I growled a "The man just asked you a _fucking_ question!" Daryl spat out another "Answer me!"

Ignoring Daryl's warning about the Walkers he screamed again. "_İAyuda me! İAyuda me!"_

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ! Shut up!" I snapped moving to smack him again, but Daryl beat me to it. Getting right in his face he used the butt end of his crossbow to knock it across the kid's face and he immediately fell to his ass so fast I had to jump out of the way or he would have impaled himself on my machete. Daryl shifted the crossbow to one hand as he jumped on him and attempted to cover his mouth, but he squirmed so much that he kept getting free to scream. I quickly got fed up with it and by the look on Daryl's face and the growls and hisses he was letting out he was too so I dropped my machete to the ground with a clang and leapt onto the writhing boy to stop his kicking as Daryl moved to kneel beside us. The wounds on my knees screamed in protest as I did so, but I ignored it as best as I could and used both of my hands to cover his mouth.

He still screamed into my hands and tried his best to knock me off of him causing my knees to hurt even more as they dug into the concrete on either side of him. Damnit, I'll have to clean those bastards _again_.

Suddenly I heard hurried footsteps from behind us and I didn't have any time to react before Daryl was being kicked to the ground by a bald man in a checkered white shirt. I gasped and rolled out of the way off the still screaming kid in time before the other could get to me, but luckily for me I was ignored by both men. Unlucky for Daryl they started to gang up and beat on him, the bald man kicking him with all his strength while the one with a bandana around his head used an aluminum bat. Shooting up from my position on the ground with the writhing boy I didn't even think of grabbing my machete before tackling the one with the headband to the hard concrete and caused his bat to fly out of his hands.

The man and I both let out grunts of pain from the impact, but I didn't have time to land one punch on him when I was suddenly thrown off and into a few loose garbage bags that rested against the opposite side of the alley. Tumbling over them I landed again on the concrete and blindly reached for his ankle to pull him down when he got back up as my glasses had fallen off my face completely and lay on the ground beside me, but his footsteps shot away from me before I had the chance to.

"That's it! That's the bag! _Ese_, take it! Take it!" someone shouted and I struggled to find my glasses and replace them on my face so I could look up the alley just in time to see Glenn standing at the entrance with the two men looking at him and a bag of guns hanging from his one hand and a Sherriff's hat from the other.

"Glenn, run!" It left my lips before I could think, but the Asian was already hauling ass back the way he came. Unfortunately he wasn't fast enough and the bald one grabbed enough of his shirt to cause him to fall to the ground. The man with the bandana had picked up his bat from the ground before giving chase and now used it to hit Glenn in the back in order to keep him down and got a cry of pain in return. "Glenn!"

I scrambled to my hands and knees, biting back cries of my own pain as my partially scabbed forearms got pulled at, and reached for my machete that still lay on the ground by the kid. Daryl was faster though and heaved his crossbow up to his sights and hardly a second later an arrow was released and imbedded itself in the bald man's fat ass. He screamed, his hands reaching for it, as his buddy hauled Glenn up and against his chest with the help of his bat.

I debated running after them as a car pulled up in front of the alley, but thought better of it when I heard the distinct 'click' of Daryl's crossbow reloading and knowing I'd be in the line of fire as well as the fact that I'd be outnumbered. The bag of guns and the boy were forgotten on the ground as they pulled Glenn out of the alley even as the Asian cried out to me and Daryl for help. I followed Daryl when he stood from the ground unsteadily and even reached out a hand to help him, but he shoved it away as he staggered after them with me trailing after him at a slower pace.

It all happened so fast. Glenn and the two men were pulled into the vehicle after dispatching a few Walkers that got too close then before we knew it they were racing off down the street with squealing tires. Daryl shoved himself against the fence screaming and taunting angrily as I stopped behind him next to the gun bag, but he wasn't allowed to be there for long when Walkers, realizing that one meal got away, turned their attention now to us and the screaming man in particular.

"Daryl, the gate!" I screamed and I heard him swear again as he pulled the gate shut. More footsteps were heard pounding down the concrete behind us and I spun around to have my machete ready in case we were attacked again. I was relieved to see T-Dog and Rick race towards us, but I couldn't relax completely yet hearing the Walkers moaning as they piled up on the other side of the fence. The little shit that had screamed and caused all this was standing now and in anger Daryl came up and grabbed his arm to throw him against the building.

As Rick and T-Dog came closer I bent and heaved up the bag as well as the Sherriff's hat that I had no doubt belonged to Rick as the cop in question pushed Daryl back from attacking the kid any farther as he screamed and threatened him. T-Dog stayed back to hold the kid against the wall.

"They took Glenn! This little bastard and his bastard homie friends!" Daryl screamed, trying to shove past Rick's arm, pointing at the kid that fought against T-Dog's hand. "I'm gonna stomp yer ass!"

I tried to skirt past Daryl and Rick with the guns, but Daryl was moving back and forth too much for me to be able to and that left me uncomfortably sandwiched between an angry redneck and the Walkers on the other side of the fence just a few feet behind me. I settled for pressing my back against the dumpster as far away as I could from both, but I knew that fence wasn't going to last for long.

"Guys!" I screamed, but T-Dog seemed to be the only one paying attention when he pointed at me.

"Guns! Guns!" he yelled and Daryl finally stopped fighting and stomping back and forth enough for the three of us to move away from the Walkers a little bit. "We're cut off!"

Rick spared me a glance then pointed at the black man. "Get to the ladder! Go!"

T-Dog raced away dragging the little shit by his bicep in his hand and Rick and Daryl turned to me. Rick held his hand out for the bag and I passed it over gratefully. "Goddamn! Let's go!" Daryl ordered and before we sped off away from the fence I placed Rick's hat on his head a little more roughly than I should have.

"You don't have to tell me twice," I grumbled as I passed them both and tore down the alley after T-Dog and the kid. I didn't even look back to see if they followed because I could hear their hurried steps behind me.

The minutes it probably took to get back to that damn yellow escape ladder felt like longer than it should have been due to the fresh pain stabbing at my now torn open scabs. I could still hear swearing from behind me coming from Daryl. Looking ahead I could see that halfway up to the third floor the kid with T-Dog close behind were making their way up at a decently quick pace and followed eagerly when I could hear the tell-tale distant moans and groans from the undead down the alley. Without having to be encouraged I began to heave myself up the ladder with Rick and Daryl immediately following after me. Glancing up again at T-Dog and the hostage above me as I climbed I watched as the black man ushered the younger man through the third floor door.

A few moments later we met them on the other side of the door and the three of us herded a swearing and complaining pain in the ass into the office we had used earlier. Neither Rick nor T-Dog said anything other than orders and small threats to the kid to keep him moving, but I could tell from the look on Rick's face that he was not happy. Well, of course he wasn't happy; Glenn had just been kidnapped and Daryl and I had been jumped by two of the dicks that had done it. Better yet, we had the guns, but no Asian and instead had a little turd of a wannabe gangster. Just about now, our situation kept getting better and better.

Lose Merle and gain Rick. Find Merle's hand on a roof and gain shelter. Get the guns, but lose Glenn in the process and gain another shithead.

Yep, we were one fantastic rescue team. If it was still active, SWAT would be begging to have us.

Psht. Riiiight.

We were the biggest group of fuck ups I have _ever_ seen.

"Hey, man, get your hands off me," the kid spoke, his voice suddenly breaking through my thoughts. T-Dog had pushed him into the chair I had sat in before to clean my cuts. There was defiance in his eyes where before there had been fear and his lip was bloody from when Daryl had knocked him to the ground with his crossbow. I smiled with a bit of grim satisfaction at that.

Rick moved past me with Daryl close behind and the Sherriff took a seat on the edge of a desk in front of the captive. As Daryl began to pace, Rick started the interrogation. "Those men you were with, we need to know where they went," he told the younger man sternly.

"I ain't telling you nothing," the boy replied and I swore under my breath when I took a seat of my own in another chair a few feet away from the group. The bending of my knees just made my cuts hurt again. Leaning over I pried the torn edge of my jeans away from the fresh blood only to find the cuts now larger and possibly deeper that earlier. It was hard to tell with the dirt caked over top.

I looked over at the bag that held the water bottle and decided I was too tired and lazy to search for it. With a sigh I leaned back in my chair to watch the scene before me.

T-Dog, who had moved to lean his fists on the desk in front of him, shook his head back and forth. "Jesus, man, what the hell happened back there?" he demanded in frustration as he looked back and forth between me and Daryl who what still pacing. Knowing Daryl's temper at being jumped so unexpectedly I figured I had the more level head to respond, but the redneck beat me to it before I could make a sound.

"I told you! This little turd and his douchebag friends came outa nowhere and jumped me," he spat.

"Man, you're the one who jumped me, _puto_," the kid shot back and I saw Daryl's jaw tick. Shit, this couldn't be good. The dumbass was going to get himself shanked. "Screaming about trying to find his brother like it's my damn fault."

"Well, you did take Glenn," I pointed out when no one else spoke up right away. I raised an eyebrow when a few glances were cast my way as if to say, 'What? I'm just pointing out the obvious clues here.'

"Yeah, and ya coulda taken Merle too," Daryl added.

"Merle?" the kid scoffed with a smirk. "What kind of hick name is that? Wouldn't name my dog Merle."

I had to resist smacking my forehead at the stupidity of it all when Daryl suddenly jumped forward to attack the little shit. Rick stood in time and intercepted the angry hunter, but that hardly stopped Daryl. He tried to kick the kid when he realized he couldn't use his fists, but that too missed when the captive leaned away in his chair and Rick pulled him back and pushed him away with a "Back off!"

Daryl stood for a moment and even I was in suspense at what he was going to do before he stalked past Rick and to the bags that rested on the desk a few feet away from me. He yanked open the top and reached in and rummaged around. First he pulled out the water bottle and tossed it to me and I fumbled with it in surprise when he hardly looked at me and went back to the bag. Next he pulled out Merle's hand still wrapped up in the blue cloth.

"Wanna see what happened to the last guy who pissed me off?" he asked the kid with his back turned to him as he unwrapped the hand and tossed the cloth back near the bag. He threw a smirk at me when I snorted as I realized what he was doing then glanced at Rick before turning and throwing the lifeless body part into the kid's lap.

He screamed and instantly jumped out of his chair, stumbling backwards away into the corner. Daryl was on him a second later and wrapped his angry fists in the younger man's shirt. Getting right into his face he growled, "We'll start with the feet this time."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. I knew it wasn't supposed to be funny, but it made me giggle anyways. The fear on the kid's face was just hilarious; it was like watching America's Funniest Home Videos when people played pranks on each other.

Rick came up and had to ruin the fun though as she grasped the back of Daryl's shirt and yanked him away from the kid again. Daryl backed away slightly and as Rick knelt in front of the boy I suddenly remembered the water in my hands as he began to speak. "The men you were with took our friend. All we want to do is talk to them, see if we can work somethin' out," he told him calmly.

Silence followed as they just stared back and forth at each other and after a few moments I sighed and unscrewed the lid of the bottle with a frown. With no rags left over from before I was left with three choices: cut another chunk from my jeans which already were fringed with blood, cut a strip from my tank top that was covered in dried Walker blood and expose my belly button or waste more water and use my hands as I poured what was left over my knees.

I think my lesser evil would be to make my new shorts a little shorter.

Setting down the bottle on the floor in front of me I finally heard the kid's reply. "G don't make deals, man, but if ya'll want to get yourself killed, go right ahead," he spat at the cop, but his voice wavered nervously. It seemed Daryl's scare tactic worked just as planned. As I set to work cutting another chunk of jean from my thigh and used it to dab at my knees I continued to listen.

"I'm pretty sure he'll wanna deal when he's got a gun pointed point blank," Daryl hissed angrily. He had gone back to pacing; I could see him in my peripheral vision.

"Daryl," Rick warned in his tone full of authority. "We just want to talk."

"Maybe you do," the redneck spat back with a scoff.

"Back off, man. Let Rick do his thing," T-Dog cut in as he lifted a hand towards Daryl as if in a calming gesture; like he was trying to placate an animal ready to pounce. I just smiled and shook my head that they even attempted to control Daryl, even Merle couldn't always do that. The smile was wiped away a second later when I dabbed at my knee again.

"Fuck."

"You alright over there, Max?" the black man called over, his voice rising over the hushed tones of Rick talking with the kid in the corner.

"Just fucking peachy," I growled. "Tore my knees up again trying to keep that little shit from running off. Hurts like a bitch."

"Suck it up, Dexter," Daryl spoke up teasingly, his anger gone for the moment as he threw me a slight smirk when I lifted my head to glare at him.

"Fuck you, Robin Hood," I shot back and lifted my hand to give him the finger before going back to my work. I still heard him growl though.

"Stop fuckin' callin' me that," he demanded. I think he forgot that others were in the room because he hardly spoke around the others unless it was in anger.

"Stop calling me Dexter and I will," I countered. I heard T-Dog snort and Daryl didn't reply which must have meant he probably remembered he had to be a cranky recluse around the rest of the group members. I rolled my eyes at that. Boys and their egos.

As I continued to clean my wounds, T-Dog and Daryl, surprisingly, fell silent as Rick talked with our prisoner in the corner. The room would have been deathly quiet were it not for Rick's low murmurs and my hissed curses of pain and annoyance. There was a lot of dirt in the damn things and I was beginning to think I'd never get all of it out.

_Serves you right for trying to play hero, dumbass_, I mentally scolded myself as another sting shot along my leg. Yeah, I obviously didn't think my whole plan through earlier. I was more worried about getting eaten than tripping and falling a few times. Although this punishment is a lot better than getting bitten, I can tell you that. Who else would keep Daryl company? If we couldn't find Merle in this hell hole of a city, I doubt anyone would appreciate Daryl's presence as much as I did.

I paused in my ministrations for a moment to evaluate my thoughts. I was somewhat shocked that I was more worried about what Daryl would do in the event of my death than my actual dying. I was worried that he'd be all alone with everyone hating and being scared of him. I didn't so much care that I would be dead as long as I didn't come back after to use them as my evening snack.

My eyes lifted then to glance at the others in the room, but my gaze almost immediately gravitated towards the irritated redneck. In my peripherals I could see Rick still crouched with the kid and T-Dog leaning against a desk watching them, but Daryl, who had most of my focus, was fidgeting a few feet away between me and T-Dog nibbling away at his thumb and watching the quiet interrogation with little interest. His feet kept shuffling, but his eyes stayed focused on the pair in the corner.

As I looked at him I couldn't help wondering a few things. _How would the others treat him if I wasn't there? Would he be crankier? Would Merle still be here? Would they have found him? How would he take my death? Would he mourn me? Am I even a friend to him?_

I gave hardly any thought to my actual death, just how it would affect Daryl. It disturbed me a little, but at the same time I could hardly care less. I just wanted Daryl to not be alone in this new crazy world we were trying to survive in.

…

I've got some fucked up priorities.

Blinking out of my thoughts I shook my head slightly and returned to my painful work, missing the sideways glance I received from T-Dog across from Daryl who didn't notice my lengthy stare. Staring down at my knees in dismay with a frown I dabbed a few more times at the torn open areas. Though the bleeding had slowed and most of the dirt was gone it still hurt like a bitch so with a frustrated sigh I threw the strip of jeans to the floor with a wet 'slap'.

I rested my elbows on my knees as I screwed the cap of the quickly depleting water bottle and let out a grumbled hiss of, "fuck it."

The guys glanced at me, but I ignored them as Rick moved to stand and the attention was shifted to him as he placed his hands on his waist. The kid was still in the corner, sulking. The ex-cop turned to us, his expression determined yet still gentle. It was that face that matched his commanding yet calm demeanor.

"So? What's happening, man?" T-Dog asked after a moment of just watching the man's eyes roam over us one at a time. The black man was eager to know what was going to be going down; we all were.

"We're gettin' Glenn back," the man stated as if it was going to be a walk in the damn park. "Let's get everything together. Minimal weaponry, just enough to defend ourselves. We want this to be as calm as possible and guns will only make things worse."

The rest of us reluctantly nodded in return to the man and I stood, giving him a mock salute. "Aye aye, Cap'n."


	12. Chapter 12

You know, I don't feel entirely safe now that we were going to confront another group with nothing but a few weapons and our good intentions. Thankfully, Rick had allowed me to fill the chamber on my revolver with little hassle and after asking how well I knew how to handle it he had moved on to arm himself with a shotgun for himself. Daryl chose to stick to his beloved crossbow and T-Dog had chosen a rifle himself. The kid, of course, got nothing.

Our showdown was happening at some place that I didn't care to know. The kid was going to be our guide there so I could care less where it was happening as long as it was Walker free and had lots of hiding places. As we walked we used back alleys as our cover from most of the Walkers, much like we had done earlier on our botched job of retrieving the guns, and used quieter means to dispose of the ones that did get in our way. That meant I got to feel all badass being one of the few of us with silent weapons to defend the big tough men. I'm not going to lie and say I didn't feel a little smug when I saw their shocked faces. Only Daryl had seen me fight Walkers before and that was with minimal weapons and although they knew I had survived my earlier rendezvous around the streets of Atlanta without them, they were still clearly impressed.

Not to toot my own horn or anything, but it I am pretty amazing. And now the guys knew it too.

Finally the kid led us up against a brick wall around the back of a building. It was an enclosure to some sort of courtyard, like one an institution would have. It had a loading bay with big doors with a few old cars scattered around with a few grassy areas and at all along the wall were windows that were blocked with iron bars well enough to keep people out, but still allowed you to look out. At one of these openings the kid stopped and pointed to one with a hole in the glass and twisted metal bars that had been bent to create and entrance.

Rick immediately began to lay down the plan. As the kid took a seat on the grass in front of the rest of us Rick took a spot on one side of the entrance and T-Dog took the other with the bag of guns. Daryl chose to stand leaning against the brick wall on Rick's right and me? I was lost as to where to stand so like the good bitch I was I took my spot next to Daryl, clutching my revolver in front of me like a noob.

"T-Dog, I want you to be my eyes. Go to the next building and take the fire escape to the roof," the Sherriff told the larger man who nodded in return. He then turned to Daryl and I. "Max, I want you with me. You don't have a long range weapon." I gave him a thumb's up. "Daryl, I want you on the opposite building, but stay low enough so that your crossbow still has range." He then nodded to the prisoner. "I'll take him with Max and try and hash this thing out."

"Ain't happenin'," Daryl shook his head at Rick's plan as he adjusted the grip on his crossbow. "She sticks with me. 'Sides, ya don't know if she can even use that damn thing." He nodded his head in my direction and ultimately to the revolver I held in front of me and I gave a sputter of indignation in return. It was sweet he was looking out for me, but I could freaking handle myself!

"Fuck you, Dixon, I know how to use a gun," I spat at him and Rick and T-Dog watched our commencing argument with raised eyebrows.

Daryl gave me a sideways smirk. "Ya think so? How's yer aim?" I paused, my mouth opening to speak, but nothing came out. He had me beat. Yeah, I knew how to use a gun, but my aim was less than perfect. Huffing, I crossed my arms over my chest and refused to answer, instead I just frowned. "Thought so." I threw him a glare.

"You're good enough with sharp objects," Rick cut in, dispelling any further argument. "But that won't help much against guns. You're right, Daryl, stick with us. Max, keep an eye on the kid."

"Gotcha," I saluted though with a mumble. I felt like my pride was just punched in the kidneys.

Rick's face then turned solemn as he took a look through the opening to the empty yard beyond it. His hand fished out a red shotgun shell from his pocket and shook it by his ear. Turning to lean his back against the brick wall behind him he looked up at T-Dog.

"You sure you're up for this?" he asked him not sounding necessarily unsure, but concerned for T-Dog. It was odd how the man hardly knew anyone for more than a day and he had already promised to come get my sorry ass if I didn't make it back, rescue Glenn and now he was worrying about T-Dog's feelings over the whole mission. This guy had definitely earned my respect; I could even almost forgive him for cuffing Merle to a roof.

The black man, who was still slightly out of breath from the light jog we had taken to get here nodded to the man again. "Yeah."

"Ok then," the Sherriff conceded as he loaded the shell into his weapon with a 'click'. T-Dog didn't say another word as he bent to pick up the bag of guns and bypass the group to take his spot of the roof next door. Rick continued to load his shotgun, his expression of grim determination. Just seeing that look let me know that we were going to get Glenn back.

"One wrong move and ya get an arrow in the ass," Daryl warned the kid who was still seated on the ground. "Just so you know."

"G's going to take that arrow out of _my_ ass and shove it up _yours_. Just so _you_ know," was his snarky reply. Is it wrong that I wanted to hit him? You should know better than to talk back to your captors like that.

"G?" Rick asked raising an eyebrow.

"Guillermo," he clarified. "He the man here."

"Ok then," said Rick, cocking this weapon then looking at me and Daryl. "Let's go see Guillermo." Standing, he then made his way through the opening. My hand grasped at the back of the kid's shirt to haul him up and Daryl moved forward to kick his ass much lighter than he probably wanted to. Once he was standing I shoved him forward to the bars and he threw me a sneer over his shoulder before following Rick through. I followed after him and Daryl after me. Once we were all through Rick and I trained our weapons on the back of the kid's head and Daryl kept an eye on the area as we continued forward towards the large set of doors.

The kid came to a stop about ten feet from the doors and almost immediately following there was the distinct clicking of locks opening and then the door began to slide open. It parted in the middle to reveal darkness and as both Rick and Daryl now trained their sights on the man now emerging from beyond the door, I kept mine on wangster's skull.

He was somewhat dark skinned, clearly of Spanish decent, if his name wasn't already a dead giveaway, and he had short dark hair on his scalp and round his lips and he wore baggy clothing; a vertically striped button up shirt over a black wife beater and dark jeans. I had absolutely no doubt that this guy was 'Guillermo'. His steps were lazy, cocky even, as he slowly approached us.

"You ok, little man?" he asked the boy.

"They were gonna cut off my feet, _carna_," the kid replied, his voice weak as if he were about to cry. Guillermo's eyes drifted over the three of us behind the kid, locking briefly on me and the gun I had trained to his head, before landing solely on Rick.

"Cops do that?" he asked the man. Rick shifted slightly and I was about to bite out a retort when the kid shook his head.

"Not him." He then turned to the right to gesture to Daryl. "This redneck _puto_, here. He cut off some dude's hand, man. He showed it to me."

"Shut up," Daryl and I both snapped at the same time. For emphasis I used the end of my gun to tap the kid's head as a warning and I saw Guillermo shoot me a small glare.

"Hey!" came an exclamation from beyond the doors. A hand shot out of the darkness pointing a pistol at Daryl before being followed by a body. A rather large body. Coming to join us was the fat guy that had jumped me and Daryl earlier and the other who had been with him who also held a gun. I had to supress a laugh at the fact that he was limping. "That's that _pato_ right there. The one that shot me in the ass with an arrow, man."

When he was beside his leader he was cut off from saying something else when Guillermo put a hand on his forearm in a sign to lower his weapon. "Chill, _ese_. Chill," he soothed. "Chill." He then looked over at Daryl, his jaw ticking in annoyance. "This true? As well as little _mellelito's_ feet? That's pretty sick, man."

"We were hoping more for a calm discussion," Rick attested, but his and Daryl's weapons were still raised at Guillermo and mine was still against the back of the kid's head. 'G' must have had the same thought as me.

"The hillbilly jumps Philippe's little cousin, beats on him, says he's gonna cut off his feet, Philippe gets an arrow in the ass…" Guillermo trailed off for a slight pause to shake his head. "You want a calm discussion? You fascinate me."

"Heat of the moment," Rick replied though I could tell he was a little put out by Guillermo's synopsis of the whole ordeal. Turning his head to me for just a second he nodded and I took that as a sign to train my gun somewhere else. Taking a step back, I lowered the handgun's sights onto his shoulders instead. "Mistakes were made," he continued. "On both sides."

"Who's that dude to you anyway?" Guillermo asked after watching Rick for a moment and turning to Daryl. "You don't look related."

"He's one of our group more or less," Rick answer instead. "I'm sure you have a few like him."

"And he's a friend," I added and a few eyes were drawn to me, but I kept mine on the leader. "A good one."

"Got my brother in there?" Daryl suddenly cut in.

"Sorry," Guillermo replied, but he didn't sound the least bit apologetic. "Fresh out of white boys. But I got Asian. Interested?"

"I have one of yours, you have one of mine. Sounds like and even trade," said Rick.

"Don't sound even to me."

"G," the kid in front of me begged. "C-come on, man."

"Our people got attacked. Where's the compensation for their pain and suffering? Better yet; where's my bag of guns?"

"Guns?"

"The bag we saw in the street. The bag Philippe and Jorge were going back to get. That bag of guns."

"You're mistaken," Rick told him calmly.

"I don't think so."

"About it being _yours_," the cop elaborated. "It's _my _bag of guns."

"Bag was in the street. Anybody could come around and say it was theirs. I'm supposed to take your word?" Rick had no answer for that. "What's to stop my people from unloading on you right here and now and I take what's mine?" At that the bigger man, who I guessed was Philippe, raised his gun again and aimed it specifically at Daryl and more men who had come out of the darkness, but still hung around the door lifted their weapons as well.

"You could do that," Rick drawled as he turned to look up at T-Dog who sat perched on the building next door, rifle aimed and ready to fire. "Or not."

But then there was a smirk on Guillermo's face as he tilted his head up slightly. "_Oye_!" he yelled. Unable to stop my curiosity I looked up at the top of their building only to find three figures come closer to the edge. The one in the middle had their hands tied behind their back and a sac over their head and I had no doubt as to whom it was.

I was proven right a moment later when the large man on the left pulled the sac off to reveal Glenn's face, his mouth taped shut with duct tape. My eyes grew wide with shock and I almost dropped my gun had it not been for Guillermo beginning to speak again and drawing my attention back to him.

"I see two options," he said and his tone implied he meant business. "You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns. Everybody walks. You come back locked and loaded. We'll see which side spills more blood." His eyes roamed over to T-Dog on the roof before he smirked and looked the three of us over with distaste. He then turned and retreated back into the building, his goons slowly following after him.

Miguel's, as that was the kid's name, face fell in disappointment and I couldn't blame him. He had just been thrown back to the wolves because of a bag of guns. I know we never meant to hurt the kid, with the exception of Daryl, but Guillermo didn't know that and he was still sending him back with us just for a bag of guns. It just went to show that survival meant more than humanity to some people. As we turned back to leave the courtyard I swore I saw Miguel's eyes fill with tears.

More than likely the poor kid had already lost whatever family he had and now his gang had turned him away to the enemy. I had to bite my lip to stop the frown that threatened to overcome my features and fought to stop myself from laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. Just because I was a bitch half the time, didn't mean that I was completely heartless. I would have comforted him if I didn't already know he wouldn't accept the gesture.

The trek back to the department store was practically silent and aside from Rick's quiet whispers when our path was blocked my Walkers and we had to take another route and our footsteps on the concrete. It allowed me to hear the distant moans and shuffling of the undead and the hurried movements of our party. And T-Dog's panting. Jeez, that man needs to work on his cardio. Didn't anyone ever tell him that McDonald's was just fat disguised as meat?

Looking over at the black man I considered asking him if he wanted me to take the load off his shoulder for a few minutes, but thought better of it when I saw the wrinkle on his forehead. Nah, T-Dog was the kind of guy that was all stubborn and macho; there's no way he'd allow me to help him out with the bag, he'd see it as a weakness. I can't blame him though, if I was in his position, struggling as he was, I wouldn't want anyone to help me either.

As quickly as we could we jogged back up to the offices on the third floor, still all hush hush and such. No one wanted to make too much noise still until we got to somewhere relatively safe and where we could really load up on ammo. When we had reached the building T-Dog had passed the Bag of Badassery to Rick after the officer had ordered Miguel to sit down between a couple of desks and moved on to place the bag on one of the desks and unzip it. T-Dog took a seat against the wall on one of the desk tops and I followed suit on the opposite side where I could still see the kid as he pulled his one knee up to rest his arm on, his face still a mask of sadness. Daryl had taken to pacing only a few feet away, his crossbow sitting on the desk at my side.

As Rick began to rifle through the bag, a grim expression overtaking his aging features, the redneck was the one to break the silence that had fallen. "Guns'r worth more than gold," he drawled lazily, looking at the older Sherriff sideways. "Gold won't protect yer family, or put food on the table."

Rick only glanced up at the man before going back to his work, extracting a clip from a handgun and checking the bullets. I was inclined to keep quiet until Daryl's next words made me frown. "Ya willin' to give it all up for that kid?"

I was about to protest, smack him even, when T-Dog piped up. "If I knew we'd get Glenn back I might agree, but you think that Vato across the way is just going to hand him over?" he asked. As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point and a very good one. There were very few live people running around nowadays and the ones that were, were considered a threat to one's survival. It didn't help that it was obvious the men we had just encountered were previously a gang and I had no doubt that they wouldn't hesitate to kill us. If we didn't give up the guns we or Glenn would likely die, but if we did, we'd probably still die. So far it looked like a lose-lose situation.

"You calling G a liar?" protested Miguel from his spot on the floor.

"You part of this?" Daryl growled at him, his usual glare landing on the teenager as he bent slightly to smack the kid over the head. "Ya wanna hold onto yer teeth?"

The rest of us watched as Miguel didn't reply to the angry redneck and merely pursed his lips in silence. There was a pause where the rest of us watched as Daryl backed away again.

"The question is do you trust that man's word," said T-Dog after a moment, looking back at Rick.

"No, question is how much yer willin' to bet on it," Daryl interrupted before officer had the chance to reply. "Could be more of them guns. Could be yer life. Glenn worth that to you?"

As much as I hated to admit it, Daryl had a point. We all saw how many guns they had, how many men they had. They had a huge advantage over us in so many ways. Was Glenn worth the risk?

I couldn't stop, nor did I want to, the voice in my head screaming yes. Glenn was one of the few from camp that I actually enjoyed interacting with. He was smart, if not a little squeamish and antsy, but a good guy all the same. I couldn't find it in myself to sacrifice him just so I could stay alive.

Rick finally paused in his reloading of his weapons, a grim frown on his face as he holstered his pistol. He sighed before looking up at the rest of us watching him. "The life I have I owe to him. I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank. He coulda walked away, but he didn't. Neither will I," he said with finality.

"Not to mention if it wasn't for him, we wouldn't even have these guns," I piped up finally, my tone even despite the anxiety I felt in the pit of my stomach. The men all looked at me and I noticed the thankful look from Rick to which I nodded subtly at before turning my eyes to a scowling Daryl. "I highly doubt any of us would have made it part way through the city without him. As far as I'm concerned, we _all_ owe it to him to save his ass."

As if ignoring my input entirely, Daryl shook his head and looked back at Rick. "But you're gonna hand those guns over."

Rick looked back at the redneck then. "I didn't say that." Daryl was immediately silent and I had to hide my smile at that. It wasn't easy to reign in Daryl Dixon. "There's nothing keepin' you three here. You should get out. Head back to camp."

"Fuck that," I scoffed quietly as an immediate response at the same time as the man on the other side of the room spoke.

"Yeah, and tell your family what?" T-Dog asked, his massive hand rubbing over his bald head as he looked at the man. Rick glanced around, his eyes catching every single one of ours. No one spoke a word, but it was obvious that the consensus was that we were all staying. It was only after a small nod was exchanged between each other that we all came closer to the bag to load up. As Rick handed a shotgun to T-Dog and Daryl grabbed a rifle I ruffled through the bag to try and find another shotgun for myself as those were the kind I was more used to shooting for fun back home. Pistols always were a little harder for me to handle.

Rick was passing me another few bullets for my revolver when I heard Miguel stand up in protest. "Awe, come on," he whined, but didn't get far as immediately Daryl turned and pushed a finger to his chest to stop him from coming closer. Daryl only had to give him a look and without a word the teen sat back down and ran his hands over his shaved head. "Just do like G says." I only glanced up at him when I heard the sadness in his tone as if he was about to burst into tears, but he was ignored by the men. I somewhat felt sorry for the kid, but remembered that everything now depended on life or death and in order to stay alive we had to fight not only the non-living, but the living as well.

Ignoring the twist in my stomach I returned to loading shells into my newly acquired shotgun. At my side, Daryl gently lifted a sweaty arm to bump against my own, seeing the frown that had taken over my scarred face. When I looked up at him, he gave me a nod and I managed a small smile back at him before he stuffed a pistol he had grabbed into the back of his pants and took up this rifle from the table. Heaving my shotgun over my shoulder –after making sure the safety was on of course –I only spared a tearing up Miguel a single glance before looking up at Rick who had somehow in the past few hours become our mission leader.

He was double checking a few of his weapons before he looked back up at the rest of us, his eyes matching our own determined stares. Zipping the bag back up he gave a final nod and skirted around the rest of us to approach Miguel.

"Get up," he ordered and immediately, though slowly, the kid stood and was soon being led back out of the building by our little group. When we reached ground level Rick made quick work of binding Miguel's hands behind him with a piece of black fabric from the gun bag and even went as far as to tie a dirty cloth around his mouth. Without a word, he nodded to Daryl who immediately trained his rifle on Miguel's back and we continued on our merry way to rescue Glenn.

Just as before it was deadly silent as we marched like soldiers with our hostage to free our friend. I hoped to whatever deity that was cruel enough to cause such a plague had enough mercy to help us get Glenn back. The poor kid didn't deserve to be in the middle of all this and neither did Miguel, but the world was a changed place and with it, the people still left alive and fighting. It was almost sad to think that the living now turned against each other instead of working together, but even before the world went to hell that was how things were.

Our inner beasts made for survival were coming to the surface, it was what we did with them that defined who we really were and how long we'd continue to breathe.


	13. Chapter 13

This time when we came to the courtyard we all were present. Rick had insisted on T-Dog joining us to hopefully show the gang that we were putting all of our small group at risk and showing faith that a trade could be made. Each of us stalked behind the restrained Miguel as we entered the courtyard and came up to the heavy set of doors that housed our current enemies. My palms were sweaty on the handholds of my shotgun as I saw how many men, armed and ready, were behind the door. They were all mean looking and seemed as ready for a fight as we were. Beside me, Daryl shoved Miguel forward through the door before turning to look at me.

He must have seen how nervous I was just with that single glance and in a way that was completely unlike him he offered a reassuring upturn of his lips before nodding me forward. I glanced at the men on the other side of the door before swallowing and moving forward with Daryl at my side. I felt safer than I have had with anyone at his side, his presence made my erratic heart beat settle only slightly and my hands not shake as much.

As we passed the men we were met with glares and snarls like we were the dead creatures roaming out on the streets themselves. We were corralled into an open area in the dimly lit room that reminded me of a car garage with all the gas tanks and heavy equipment lying around. Daryl had his rifle trained on Miguel's back again and I stuck close to him with my shotgun half raised as I eyed each one of the men that leered at us as we came to a halt in front of Guillermo for the second time that day.

The Spanish man's eyes drifted over Miguel before eyeing the bag that Rick had strapped over his shoulder with a frown. He then looked the ex-cop in the eye and shook his head. "I see my guns, but they're not all in the bag," he said and I couldn't supress the glare that came into my gaze as I looked at the skinny man. Rick, who had his gun trained on the man's abdomen, met his hard stare evenly.

"That's because they're not yours," he told the gangster. "I thought I mentioned that."

Philippe, the fat man that had received the arrow in the ass courtesy of our favorite redneck leaned in to talk to his leader. "Let's just shoot these fools right now, ese, alright? Unload on their asses, ese!" he said angrily before his eyes strayed over to me where I stood close to Daryl. "And take their pretty little puta too."

"This 'pretty little puta' will have no problem making another hole in your ass before you can say taco," I growled back, my hard glare trained on the fat man. Philippe was about to say something else when Guillermo raised his hand to stop him.

"I don't think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation," he said, returning to his conversation with Rick.

"No," the Sherriff drawled as he lowered his gun and shook his head. "I'm pretty clear." He only looked away from Guillermo to flick out a knife and cut the black fabric tying Miguel's hands together. As soon as that was done he shoved the kid forward who then stumbled into the arms of the two men that had taken Glenn. "You have your man. I want mine."

There was a pause before Guillermo took a step closer to Rick. "I'm gonna chop up your boy. I'm gonna feed him to my dogs; three of the evillest, nastiest man eating bitches you have ever saw. I picked them up from Satan at a yard sale," he threatened, his anger clearly rising. The closer he got into Rick's face the more I was tempted to shoot him as I trained the barrel of my shotgun on him. "I told you how it has to be. Are you woefully deaf?"

"My hearin's just fine," Rick ground out, his eyes never leaving the Spanish man. "You said come locked and loaded-" here he cocked his shotgun and immediately it was followed by the echoes of others as the rest of us did the same as well as Guillermo's own men "-ok then, we're here." Lifting his shotgun to his shoulder Rick aimed the barrel at Guillermo's head who surprisingly stayed calm aside from the scowl on his face. I felt my heartbeat quicken yet again and couldn't stop myself from scooting closer to Daryl's side. If it annoyed him he didn't give any indication.

All was tense and silent except for the shuffling of feet on the concrete or the clunking of weapons being readied. I actually thought we were about to have a full blown gang fight until I heard the unmistakable sound of an old lady's weak voice cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. It surprised me more than anything when I saw the little old lady herself shuffle in her little blue night gown and slippers through the group of angry gang members still calling Philippe's name.

"Abuella!" Philippe said, his stance shuffling as he still trained his pistol on Rick's head. "Go back with the others!"

"Get that old lady out of the line of fire!" Daryl ground out. In the commotion I had only lowered my gun a little bit because as soon as I saw the old woman something clicked in my brain that told me that not everything here was as it seemed. Guillermo, still in mine and Rick's sights, sighed and turned to address the woman.

"Abuella, listen to your mijo, ok? This is not the place for you right now," he told her, but the old woman ignored him completely as she addressed the fat man she had come to stand beside. In fact she was completely ignorant to the fact that guns were drawn and that struck a chord in me. Lowering my gun a little more I tried my best to hear what the old woman was saying to Philippe, but it was difficult when she was speaking Spanish and her voice was as weak sounding and rickety as it was. The only thing I was able to make out was, "he needs his medicine."

Guillermo's tough exterior seemed to falter as he looked between the old woman and Rick who had also lowered his gun. Looking at the officer I was able to figure out that he was slowly coming to the same conclusion I was, something was going on here and it definitely wasn't anything dangerous. Guillermo saw this and turned to Philippe.

"Philippe, go take care of it ok? And take your grandmother with you!" he ordered harshly, but what was done was done. The old lady's appearance had definitely caused a change.

The woman in question was staring at Rick curiously as he slowly lowered his gun even more until it was resting at his side and ignored her grandson as he tried to lead her away. Pushing away his arm she pointed at our little group. "Who are those people?" she asked and even had the bravery to come closer to us. As she came closer, still ignoring Philippe, I lowered my gun completely to my side just as Rick had. Coming up to Rick she mustered a little wrinkled glare. "Don't you take him!"

Rick blinked in confusion. "Ma'am?"

She ignored him. Either she was really stubborn or hard of hearing. Both were a possibility. "Philippe's a good boy. He had his trouble, but he pull himself together," she said to him, her accent thickly Spanish. "We need him here." By now here tone had become almost desperate and Rick was staring at her with wide eyes.

"Ma'am, I'm not here to arrest your grandson," he told her.

"Then, what do you want him for?"

From my spot next to Daryl I watched as Rick's eyes looked around as if trying to find an answer that wouldn't offend the old woman. "He's… helping us find a missing person. A fellow named Glenn."

Philippe's grandmother's wrinkled little face broke out into a smile. "The Asian boy?" she asked softly. "He's with Mr. Gilbert." Rick stared at the woman with shock as she held out a hand to him. "Come. Come, I show you."

Rick took her withered hand with hesitation after glancing around at Guillermo's men who were staring at the interaction with uncertainty, their eyes going back and forth between their leader and the ex-cop. As the woman lead Rick through the crowd of men, Guillermo stood to the side with a frown on his gaunt features. After glancing at Daryl and T-Dog, who had also lowered their weapons, I followed behind Rick.

When a few tried to stop us, Guillermo, still frowning, shook his head with a sighed, "let them pass."

As we passed the large group of men Daryl immediately came to my side and it made me raise an eyebrow at him, which was ignored of course. Marching through the dark building, the old woman, still holding Rick's hand, led him through a door into another small courtyard and up a small flight of metal stairs and then to a grassy area. In the center of the yard was a little table with two unoccupied chairs on opposite sides. On the table was a little tea set that was not currently in use. The yard itself was enclosed by a similar brick wall we had seen outside the first courtyard we had entered.

We continued to follow in silence, realization slowly dawning on us as to what was happening here. These men weren't just a gang; they were holing up in an old folk's home, which was evident when Philippe's grandmother led us into a building that had elderly people in wheelchairs lining the hallways. We only stopped briefly when Rick paused in front of a door to look inside, but was quickly pushed forward when Philippe prompted his grandma to keep going. As we passed the very same door I looked inside to find a woman in scrubs feeding an old woman in a wheelchair, her eyes distant and drool and food running down her chin.

Pushing on, we congregated in a large room full of more elderly people sitting at round tables and being taken care of by more people. If it wasn't for the blocked out windows I wouldn't have known that the world had ended and instead thought that I was at the old folk's home back in Canada where I used to visit my grandpa all the time before he passed away. Philippe's grandma led us to a group of people crowded around an old black man wheezing in a wheelchair and just on the edge I could see Glenn's unmistakable red hat and worried frown.

Philippe proceeded to give the man an inhaler as the three men and I came up to Glenn, but the Asian man didn't seem as surprised to see us as we were to see him.

"What the hell is this?" Rick asked the younger man.

"Asthma attack," he explained as he looked back at him. "Couldn't get his breath all of a sudden." T-Dog, on the other side of me and Daryl stared at Glenn with almost angry eyes.

"We thought you were getting eaten by dogs, man!"

Glenn only raised an eyebrow and turned. The rest of us followed his gaze to find three tiny shaking little Chihuahuas nestled in a leopard print dog bed. The white fluffy one in the middle was standing and let out a few high pitched barks. I couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped me at seeing them and looked at T-Dog with a wide grin.

"Careful. Your ankles are in danger," I teased and the black man only glared at me. Rick, with anger written all over his face, led Guillermo off to the side to talk in hushed tones. I couldn't really hear what was being said but by the looks of it, Rick wasn't happy that we were lied to about the whole situation and truthfully neither was I. If any one of Guillermo's men died because of us, what would have happened to all these people? Who would take care of them?

Shaking my head to get rid of those thoughts, I looked at Glenn who had turned to us fully now with a sheepish look on his face. Without warning I suddenly smiled and bypassed Daryl to wrap my scraped arms around the Asian's neck in a tight hug. The man let out a squeak of surprise, but after a moment he returned the gesture with an awkward pat on my back.

"Jesus, you scared the living shit out of me, you know that?" I scolded as soon as I let him go to hold him at arm's length.

"Um…" the Asian mumbled unsurely. "Sorry?"

"Yeah, Chinaman. Thought we'd have to bust ya out of here before ya got yerself killed," Daryl added.

"I'm Korean," Glenn corrected with a sigh and I laughed slightly when Daryl only shrugged and ignored him.

Just then Rick came back to us with Guillermo at his side, a frown still on his face. "Hey, come on," he said when he had our attention and gestured with his head to follow. We did so without protest and followed him and Guillermo to a separate room that looked as if it used to be the lounge for the staff.

As we all took our spots Rick began to converse with Guillermo again. "What about the rest of your crew?" he asked.

"The Vatos trickle in to check on their parents or grandparents," Guillermo explained. "They see how things are and most of them decide to stay. It's a good thing too, we need the muscle. The people we've encountered since things fell apart: the worst kind. Plunderers; the kind that take by force."

"That's not who we are," Rick told him gently.

"How was I to know? My people got attacked and you show up with Miguel hostage." Guillermo gave a humorless chuckle. "Appearances."

"Guess the world changed," commented T-Dog from his seat where he leaned back against the wall behind the men. Glancing at Daryl who stood by the entrance still holding his rifle at his side, although lowered, I noticed him throw a glance of his own at the black man then back to Guillermo as he continued talking.

"No," said the Spanish man with a shake of his head. "It's the same as it ever was. The weak get taken." I looked away from Daryl to stare at the floor by my feet unable to do anything but silently agree. "So we do what we can here. The Vatos work on those cars and talk about getting the old people out of the city, but most can't even get to the bathroom by themselves so that's just a dream. Still, it keeps the crew busy and that's worth something." Rick and him stared at each other for a moment, a sort of silent camaraderie passing between them. "So we bar all the windows, weld all the doors shut except for one entrance. The Vatos, they go out, scavenge what they can to keep us going. We watch the perimeter night and day and we wait. The people here… They all look to me now. I don't even know why."

"Because they can," Rick told him. The two men stared at each other for another moment before Rick turned his shotgun to hold it out for Guillermo to take. When he did, the ex-cop turned to the bag to rifle through it and began pulling out guns and ammo and settled them on the table next to him without another word.

T-Dog, Daryl, Glenn and I watched as Rick did so without complaint. As much as we all wanted and needed the guns, it just wasn't moral to leave these people with nothing. They had more to take care of than we did and I was glad that Rick had the decency to see that as well as I could.

Still, it was hard to see more than half of our stash disappear from the Bag of Badassery. Chancing a glance at the other three men I noted the frowns on each of their faces, but none of them dared to go against Rick's decision.

When the weapons had been distributed, Rick zipped up the remaining guns for us to take back to camp and pulled the strap over his shoulder. Standing, Guillermo and the Sherriff shook hands. "Thank you," the Spanish man told him. Rick merely nodded to him and they released each other's hands before our little group left the room. Guillermo and a few of the other men from his crew followed us back to the heavy metal doors we had first entered and we said our goodbyes and good lucks.

After the door was closed behind us, I handed Glenn my shotgun and pulled my revolver from the back of my jeans. The Asian man nodded in thanks and we were off back to our van with less gun power and one man shorter than we expected to go back to camp with. After we stopped back at the Department store to gather the supplies we had left there it had been decided after leaving the hospital that it was too late to look for Merle, the sun was already beginning to set and if the man wasn't dead by now he had definitely gotten out of the city. Daryl and I, of course, were the only ones that weren't too happy about that even if it did make sense.

We were mostly silent the whole way back to the train tracks we had left the van at, but when we had slowed our pace to a walk when passing under the bridge Glenn finally spoke up. "Admit it," he said jokingly to Rick. "You only came back to Atlanta for the hat."

"Don't tell anybody," Rick replied with a small grin.

Daryl, it seemed, wasn't in the same joking mood. Of course not, Daryl was hardly ever in the mood to get along with anyone. "You've given away half our guns and ammo," he grumbled to the ex-cop whose smile immediately fell into a frown. I had to roll my eyes at Daryl's attitude; apparently he was the only one who didn't see that they needed the guns just as much as we did.

"Not nearly half," Rick replied gruffly. His tone suggested that he was in no mood to deal with Daryl's temper and I didn't blame him. I had to deal with that shit all the time.

"For what?" continued Daryl. "Old farts are gonna die momentarily anyhow? Seriously, how much longer do you think they got?"

Daryl had a point. "How long do any of us?" retorted Rick. He also had a point.

We were passing an abandoned bus right before we'd be able to see our van, but stopped short when we were in the line of sight where we'd see our vehicle and found it wasn't there. At first I thought I was hallucinating in the Atlanta heat, but when I saw the look of shock on each of the men's faces I knew I wasn't the only one seeing the now vacant spot.

"Oh my god," mumbled Glenn.

"Where the hell's our van?" Daryl asked, his argument with Rick forgotten.

"We left it right there. Who would take it?" Glenn continued. His voice was rising with slight panic, but it was Rick who supplied the only answer that we all should have known.

"Merle." His tone came out as a growl and he looked angry. His first impression of the man was bad, and he wasn't getting any gold stars since, especially not after this.

Realization dawned on the rest of us and I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "Of… fucking… course," I grumbled and rolled my eyes over to Daryl with a frown of my own. The redneck looked back at me.

"He's gonna be takin' some vengeance back to camp," he said, holding my gaze briefly before turning it to Rick and the others. Fear crossed over T-Dog's and Glenn's faces, but Rick remained stoic as I nodded to Daryl's statement.

Merle was a dumbass, that couldn't be denied, and if he was currently on something there was no doubt he'd wreak havoc on the camp if that's where he was going. "Shit," I hissed out loud, my sneaker clad foot kicking at the concrete beneath me in anger as my right hand clenched at the handle of my gun. "Why the _fuck_ did Shane agree to let him go on the run in the first place?" No one answered my question and I didn't really expect them to either. Rounding on Daryl I glared and pointed a finger at him even if it wasn't his fault. The poor guy leaned back with surprise as my finger was shoved in his face. "If I ever see your brother again, you bet your little pale ass he's getting a nice hard kick to the balls. I'll make sure he'll be singing soprano for weeks!"

Storming off, I made my way to the fence and it was only a few moments after that I heard the men following me through the tall grass. "Where are you going, Max?" Rick asked when he'd caught up to my side.

"Walking," I ground out as if it was the most obvious answer. I tore open the fence wider as it was already partially open, probably from Merle. "Do you see another vehicle around here? Unless you want to hotwire the bus, it's our only option."

"I guess so," replied the man in a mumble. After we all climbed through the fence we began our long trek back to the quarry. My glare hadn't hardened after realizing that I had to walk for the next few hours all because of a one handed Merle Dixon, but I couldn't help the small smirk that crossed my lips when I heard Glenn mutter to Daryl behind me.

"When did she see your ass, man?"

"Fuck off. She ain't never seen my ass," was Daryl's growled reply.

"Either way, man, she's got as many anger issues as you do," T-Dog piped up with a snicker. I could almost hear Daryl's scowl from behind me.

"But she's right," said Rick, the voice of reason it seemed. "Walking's our only choice. Hopefully we get there in time."

Silence fell and eventually we began to jog. My anger at Merle was slowly growing when darkness really began to fall. The only source of light we had was the full moon and with it a sense of foreboding. I wasn't a superstitious person, but for some reason I knew something bad was going to happen tonight. I didn't know if it would be from Merle or something else, but I knew that that full moon on a night like this didn't mean anything good. Night was the time that the Walkers were most active because that's when things quieted down and they were able to hear what we were doing if they were close enough and it was when we were the most vulnerable.

The only thing in my head right now was the need to get back to camp. If it was Merle and he did decide to take revenge there was no telling what could happen to those people and how it would affect mine and Daryl's positions amongst them. If it was Walkers there was no telling how many would die; there weren't a lot of people left at camp that were capable of defending themselves, let alone the children. I know I wasn't the best shot or anything, but I knew I was definitely better than half the people there.

Just thinking of the kids and how vulnerable they were had me quickening my pace. No one deserved to die, especially not those kids.


	14. Chapter 14

I had decided a total of an hour ago that this was taking entirely _way_ too long. If wasn't for the many treks through the woods from the hunting trips with the Dixon brothers I'm sure I'd be complaining of aching feet and a stich in my side by now, but now I was accustomed to it. As it was, Daryl and I had corralled to the head of our little group as the others were being too slow for our liking. Daryl tromped along the path just as moody as ever and I kept in time at his side. Glenn, being the one closest to our level of stamina, was several paces behind us with Rick not far behind and T-Dog bringing up the rear with panted breaths and uneven shuffles.

We had slowed down from our jog to walk for a while, no thanks to the others who were having trouble keeping up. I had noticed Daryl roll his eyes in annoyance, but nonetheless slowed down to a fast walk when Rick asked him to wait up for them. I had slowed my steps beside him, not even bothering to hide my own twisted expression of distaste. Although I understood, I felt rushed with the need to return to camp before all hell broke loose. Again.

Not long after we left the edge of Atlanta did darkness fall farther which was another reason why Daryl, and subsequently me, had taken the lead. The fading light provided minimal visual power, but to anyone that wasn't Daryl it was still getting harder to see. I'm pretty sure that if we kept walking like we were, we'd make it back to camp by the time darkness fell completely and I thought that would be taking too long. That is if we didn't get lost, but we kept on, trusting in the redneck's undeniable skill.

"Hey, Dexter, keep up. Startin' to lag behind," I heard Daryl suddenly call back to me. In my thinking I had apparently become slower and now walked between Glenn and Daryl. Somehow my eyes had even drifted down to stare at his rather well sculptured backside while in my own little world. The man didn't turn back to me fully to address me, but he did turn his head slightly over his shoulder in order to be heard regardless of the dead silence surrounding us.

Grumbling in annoyance I gave in and quickened my pace, which had now turned into a stomp, to place myself once again at Daryl's side. As his legs were much longer than mine, his steps seemed much more leisurely and I secretly cursed my short limbs and the hurried steps I had to use to stay with him. My face contorted into a scowl that would have rivaled the redneck's and it caused the scrape on my face to sting a little as my glasses brushed against it, making my scowl deepen.

"Do you even remember what my real name is?" I snapped irritably. I'm sure I looked like a child throwing a temper tantrum, but I didn't care. It wasn't far from the truth really, only my pride and minor amount of maturity stopped me from snapping at him more harshly.

"I dunno. Mindy 'r somthin'," he shrugged and I gave an offensive grunt.

To be honest I was probably more moody than I should have been, but I blame my temper on my German heritage. Quick to anger and slow to sedate; even with alcohol. Give me some whiskey or rum and I'll drink the night away until I forget how to stand and suddenly think a pillow is my personal blow-up doll.

"It's Max," I grumbled after a few moments of my quiet seething. Honestly, it was three _fucking_ letters. How hard was it to forget?

"Oh yeah," I heard him mumble, not sounding interested in the slightest. In the corner of my vision I could see him adjust the strap of his crossbow on his shoulder. "Is it short for somethin' or were ya just a butch kid?"

I snorted and rolled my eyes, almost tripping in the process as a rather large rock stuck out from the ground. "Why the sudden interest? You never gave a shit before."

"Still don't," he replied. "But I'm bored." I saw his head turn over his shoulder again to look at the three men farther behind us. "And these sorry fucks ain't any entertainin'."

"Yippy for me," I muttered sarcastically.

There was a pause where we were silent and again he was the one to break it. "So, you gonna tell me or what?"

I gave a long sigh, exaggerating the annoying effort that the task was. "It's short for 'Marigold Amelia Xenathora'. Hence 'Max'." Instantly Daryl's strides came to a halt as did the others' and I was the only one left walking. I went a few steps more before also stopping and turning to see their confused faces. Daryl's was the most comical and I couldn't stop myself from bursting into laughter, my hand being the only thing to mask the volume of it.

"Jesus, guys, I'm _kidding_," I laughed out with a shake of my head after my initial fit of giggles had passed. Each man either rolled their eyes or shook their head with small smiles as they continued walking to catch up with me. Daryl was at my side once again as we began to ascend the hill. "It's actually Maxine." Daryl gave me another look, one that curled the corner of his lip up. "I know; fucking ugly right? That's why I like being called Max."

"I prefer callin' ya Dexter."

"And I prefer calling you Robin Hood."

"I ain't no tight-wearin' fag," he bit out.

"Never said you were, but you're the one with the crossbow and arrows and shit," I shrugged and smiled when I saw the sneer on his face out of the corner of my eye, my lenses just able to allow me to see it clearly.

"So?"

"_So_ that makes you Robin Hood and me your sidekick, Little John."

"You're fuckin' weird."

"Don't hate the playa, hate the game, bro."

"I think we could go a little faster," Rick suddenly cut in as he quickened his pace to a jog, dispelling any farther argument that could have occurred between me and the redneck. Both Rick and Glenn passed by us, the Asian throwing me a small smirk as he caught up with the officer. I stayed by Daryl, surprise surprise, and settled ourselves in the middle easily. T-Dog's heavy breathing could be heard to my left and I had the incredible urge to throw an inhaler at the larger man.

Not long after we started jogging had darkness fallen completely, the moon becoming our only source of light. And it wasn't much longer after that we began to hear the screams from where we knew the Quarry was just around another curve, followed almost immediately by gunshots. The five of us stopped, staring at the area that had a small orange glow coming from it before Rick mumbled a muttered curse and we were off again at full sprint to the camp.

I pulled my machete and revolver from their respective places on my person, my heart throbbing loudly in my chest not only due to the exercise, but the anxiety I felt upon hearing the shouts of terror. To me it felt like we couldn't move fast enough to get to camp; the shots continued to be fired, screams were cut short and then drowned out my more. I had no doubt that a horde had found them and it caused a knot of sickness to form in my stomach.

"Everybody stick together!" Rick shouted as we leapt through the trees. The edges of camp could barely be seen from the fire's glow, the light itself flickering from one body to the next, dead and alive, passing across it.

It seemed like forever before we finally burst from the treeline and into the camp. Immediately more shots echoed around the area mingling with the screams of fear and shouts of agonizing pain. I made sure to stay close to Daryl, the redneck being the one I trusted most, and he didn't complain as I did so, especially not after I jammed my machete into the head of a Walker that was sneaking up on his side. A nod of gratitude was passed my way and I nodded in return before cocking back the hammer of my revolver and shooting a Walker approaching me from the right square in the forehead.

It continued like this for the next several minutes, but gradually the cracking of gunfire ceased and all that was left was the sobbing and heavy panting of those still alive. Having being separated from Daryl near the end, I made my way back to him while stepping over bodies and keeping my eyes on them to make sure none of them sprang back up and nibbled my ankles. When I reached Daryl's side, his eyes were scanning the area wildly, his shotgun held tightly in his hands.

I narrowly missed getting the butt end of the damn thing in my stomach as I came up next to him and swore when I had to take a quick step back to avoid getting hit. "Damn, Robin Hood! Calm your tits, it's just me," I exclaimed, my hands coming up in surrender as the redneck swung around to face me. In my right hand my empty revolver sat useless in my grip and in my left my bloody machete.

As Daryl's frantic expression calmed somewhat I could hear Rick calling out for his family as were a bunch of other people. Some, like Andrea, were hunched over their fallen loved ones crying their hearts out. It made me glad to know that Daryl was alright as I always knew he'd be.

"Thought we lost ya for a moment there, Dexter," he teased finally as he stepped forward to give me a lazily light slug of his fist to my shoulder. I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped me and I should have felt guilty for it considering how much death and destruction that had just occurred, but I ignored it.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," I chuckled and returned the gesture that for him was as close as a friendly hug I would get. However the gentle moment that had passed was suddenly shattered when Andrea's cries of anguish began to echo around us, calling her sister's name.

Looking over I watched as the blonde woman hunched over her fallen sibling, tears running down her pale cheeks and bloodied hands gripping and shaking at Amy's lifeless body as if it would somehow bring her back. Tears of my own welled in my eyes at the sight. I might not have liked Andrea that much, but Amy was a sweetheart and my chest ached for them. I could only imagine my reaction being identical if I had witnessed my own bother or sister's deaths, but I was stuck in Georgia and unable to look for them to see if they were even still alive. As it was, I'd probably cry like that if it was Daryl in Amy's place.

I couldn't watch anymore; the scene was all too depressing. Tearing my eyes away from Andrea and tuning out her screams I looked over to the little group that had gathered in front of the RV to see who all had survived. Morales and his family, Rick and his, Dale, Jim, Shane, Jacquie, T-Dog, Glenn, Carol and her little girl, Daryl and myself. Looking farther passed them I scanned the dead that were mingled with the Walkers. Aside from Amy there was Evelyn, a nice old lady that had taught me how to properly wash clothing, Ben, her husband, Sandy and Greg, two siblings that had been fairly decent to talk to, and many others that I hadn't even bothered to learn the names of. Now I wish I had. Or maybe not; seeing them pass would be a lot harder to take that way.

Looking over at Daryl I was relieved yet again that he was there. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't even be alive, I don't know what I would do if he was suddenly gone. Who would I hunt with? Who would I tease? Who would I call Robin Hood?

I had the incredible urge to hug him, but stopped myself at the last second knowing that I'd be rejected and sneered at.

No one slept that night which wasn't surprising in the least. Not only would nightmares plague our every moment of rest, but the paranoia of the gun shots and screams attracting more Walkers was on everybody's minds. Except for Andrea maybe. She hadn't moved from her spot next to Amy's body and after a while of nothing but her crying and begging for her sister to come back she had become as silent as the dead girl she stared at.

The rest of us huddled around the fire, some holding their loved ones' closer and whoever else simply stared between the fire and the dead still littering the campsite. Surprisingly none came back from the dead as was expected and by the time dawn came most of us were already at work making sure it wouldn't happen later on.

Daryl had taken up a pick axe, volunteering without having to be asked to take care of the messy job, while Glenn and T-Dog donned working gloves to carry the bodies either to a pile for the ones to be buried or over to the fire that Shane had built. I tried my best to stay out of the way, but when I got bored I put my machete to good use and joined Daryl in releasing my frustrations on the heads of fallen group members and Walkers alike.

After only a few minutes I was sweating like a pig, the hot Georgia sun already causing me to soak through my shirt and my wild hair to plaster to my face. My glasses constantly slipped down my nose and it took everything I had not to groan in frustration, which was why I was suddenly happy for a break after about a half hour into my work. I felt a tap on my shoulder after bashing in another skull, the dark blood caking my once neon green sneakers and making me grimace. Turning to whoever it was, I found Daryl standing behind me holding out that disgusting red cloth of his in one hand while the other held his pick axe over his shoulder. Regardless of the fact I knew how gross that thing was I accepted it with a grateful nod and wiped at my face as I followed him to where a group had formed around the regular campfire.

"Y'all can't be serious," Daryl drawled as we stopped beside where Carol was seated. They were staring at Andrea still hunched on the ground. "Gonna let that girl hamstring us?" Sometimes I hated Daryl's lack of tact, but still, he was decent enough to keep his voice low so Andrea couldn't hear. "That girl's a time bomb."

Rick slowly approached, his hand rubbing the bridge of his nose with a deep frown. "What do you suggest?"

Daryl took a few steps away from me to look at Rick like it was the most obvious answer in the world. His shoulders lifted into a shrug, the pick axe moving with them. I could just imagine the 'you're a dumbshit' look on his face. "Take the shot," he told him. His hand then lifted to mime a gun at his temple. "Clean in the brain. From here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No," Lori interrupted and all eyes turned to her. "For god sakes let her be."

No one disputed the woman's words and I watched as Daryl rolled his eyes in annoyance before turning and stomping off back to work with his trademark scowl. Sighing, I put my machete back in its sheath and crossed my arms over my chest while biting my lip. "He's got a point, you know," I pointed out softly. Across the pit Shane shook his head with a sigh of his own.

"I know he does, but what are we supposed to do? Rick almost got his head blown off goin' over there," he said, his hands coming to rest on his hips.

"So what? We just sit here and wait for her to turn? Do you think Andrea should see that?" I hissed, my arm shooting out to gesture my hand over to the woman as my eyes narrowed on the ex-cop. "Do you really think her last memory of her sister should be as a Walker?"

"We know what you're getting at, Max, but this is her choice. Andrea has a gun. She'll take care of it when the time comes," Rick reasoned sternly from my left. Rolling my eyes in much the same way Daryl had I allowed my shoulders to slump as my lip curled up in annoyance.

"Fine. Whatever."

I began to stomp away just as Daryl had done, but I stopped short in my tracks when I heard Glenn shout. "We don't burn them!"

Looking up and over to the Asian man I found him trying to glare through his sadness at Daryl and Morales who had previously been dragging a body over to the burning pile of Walkers at the edge of the cliff. His lip was quivering with barely suppressed tears, but he stood his ground. "We burry them." When neither of the other men gave a reply he swallowed and regained his composure. "Understand?"

Daryl and Morales stared at the smaller man for a few seconds then bent to pick up the dead weight once again with grunts of effort. I heard Glenn say something else while pointing to the line of people on the other side of the RV that had been lost during the attack. Sighing again, I began to walk away back to a few bodies still left to have their heads bashed in, but stopped again when another shout, this time from Daryl, was heard.

"Y'all left my brother for _dead_!" he roared. Looking up at him I saw the deep scowl on his face, but it was laced with sadness. Immediately I changed directions and quickened my pace to catch up with him as he continued to stomp away, picking up his pick axe as he passed it. I wanted to stop him before he said anything too stupid.

"Daryl," I called, but he ignored me.

"Y'all had this comin'!"

"Daryl!" I barked, coming up to his side and promptly smacking him in the arm with a glare. The redneck turned to me, stopping as he did so to harden his scowl on me. "Maybe you should try putting that filter in place, huh? Think before you talk, stupid."

"You takin' their side now? Thought ya said Merle's yer friend," He snapped, his face coming intimidatingly close to mine. I knew he was trying to scare me, but that stopped working after the first few days I set up shop with him and his brother. We began to walk again after I raised my eyebrow at him, letting him know I was unaffected by his stare, and began to circle around to the other side of camp again where most of the bodies still lay.

"I'm not taking any sides, Daryl. I'm just trying to stop you from getting a bullet in the ass for your stupidity. If you keep running that mouth of yours off you'll be as good as a Walker tuna fish casserole."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"It means you're an idiot."

It seemed these people had a knack for dispelling arguments between me and Daryl before it became a full out rage-fest, because Daryl's next words were cut off by Jacqui's cries. "A Walker got him! A Walker bit Jim!"

Immediately my grip went back to the handle of my machete and both Daryl and I spun around to come back over to the RV where the others were starting to close in on a terrified looking Jim. The poor man was shuffling around, his face drawn back like he was ready to cry. It was then that I noticed the blood on the front of his shirt.

"Show it to us," Daryl ordered as he came up closer. As the rest of us made a circle around the tall gangly man, I could see him starting to panic. His eyes grew wild with the more shouts and demands that were thrown his way and he spun around to take up a shovel from behind him and held it in front of him like a weapon. However it didn't do him much good as the fever he was probably experiencing was making him weak and the moment T-Dog came up behind him to pin his arms to his side, he dropped the tool back to the ground.

I stayed back, watching as Daryl rushed forward and pulled up the man's shirt, revealing the clearly defined bite mark on the left side of his abdomen. All the while he struggled weakly, his voice coming out in desperate whispers as he repeated two words like a mantra: "I'm ok."

Obviously he was not 'ok'. I couldn't stop myself from frowning sadly at the tall man as T-Dog released him to stand on his own, Daryl too stepping back to my side. I actually really liked Jim, he was a friendly guy, and now he was bit and in a matter of hours he'd be one of them and we'd have to kill him. His wound would fester, the fever would take him and we'd be the only thing left on his mind for a tasty meal. Forget fish and squirrels for this guy. I felt the acid taste of bile in the back of my throat at the thought, but swallowed it back.

Jim continued to chant, his eyebrows drawing together over his nose in desperation while the rest of the members left in the camp stared at him with either sadness or anger. The anger wasn't completely directed at Jim I don't think, even though he really should have told us sooner, but at the Walkers. Somehow this plague virtually destroyed everything and even now it continued to tear everything apart. Bit by bit. Person by person.

Clearly no one knew what to do, we all just stared at him as he swayed on his feet and continued to mumble nonsensically. It was only after a few minutes of dead silence from the rest of us that Rick finally stepped forward, slowly, to approach the panicking man. His hand was held up and his tone was low and gentle like he was talking to a wild animal and it seemed to work as Jim's heaving shoulders slowly calmed, but his expression was still distraught.

"Jim, buddy, why don't you go sit in the shade for a bit?" the Sherriff suggested kindly. The closer he got to Jim, the more the man seemed to calm down. "Let you cool off for a while, how's that sound?" The lanky man paused before nodding his head vigorously, the action reminding me of a child after they had just finished crying their eyes out and had suddenly been offered candy.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice choking a bit with the effort.

"Ok," Rick said softly and even offered the man a kind smile. By now he was close enough to touch him and took advantage of it by patting him reassuringly on the shoulder and nodded gently towards the overturned crate used as a stool behind the RV. Jim obliged and stumbled over to the seat, his hand cradling his bleeding wound as Daryl and T-Dog parted farther apart to allow him through.

Rick eyed everyone that had closed in on the circle and it was obvious he wanted a discussion on what was to be done. Giving Jim a glance I forced myself to smile at the man when I caught his eye before joining the others a good ten feet away, wiggling myself between Daryl and Carol, the woman flinching away ever so slightly when my arm brushed hers.

As much as I liked Jim and didn't want to see him die by our hands, I wanted to see him as a Walker even less. I knew what had to be done, and so did Daryl probably, but was everyone else on the same page as us? Could they kill a man that was still breathing and destined to die in a few hours? Was it cruelty or mercy?

Where was the Advil when you needed it?


	15. Chapter 15

"I say put a pick axe in his head."

"Daryl!"

The redneck at my side ignored my glare –a clear disagreement with his statement –and continued anyways. "And the dead girl's and be done with it."

I had a hard time containing my growl and an urge to sock the motherfucker in the jaw. He might have been my friend and downright scary sometimes, but sometimes I wished someone other than Merle would punch him, just to tell him he wasn't as much of the shit as he thought he was. And if anger management had still existed, I would have paid all kinds of cash to get his ass at the top of the list; mine would probably be right under it.

But back to the point. How could he be so nonchalant about this? It was a man's life for fuck's sake! It didn't matter that he was going to die anyway, putting a sharp object brutally through his skull was not human nor was it humane. Both Jim and Amy deserved better deaths than that. A bullet would be better even.

"That what you'd want if it were you?" Shane asked sourly from across the circle we had formed, staring at Daryl like he was nothing more than mud on his steel-toed boots.

Daryl didn't waste a second in answering with a nod. "Yeah, and I'd thank ya while ya did it."

"I agree with Daryl to a certain extent," I cut in, my arms coming up to cross in front of my chest as eyes were drawn in my direction. My anger had subsided enough to allow me to talk without hissing like a cat around a vacuum. I cast the crass redneck beside me a sideways glower before looking Shane dead on in the eyes. "But I don't think a pick axe is the way to go about it. Back home we used to put our dogs down with a sheet of plastic and a gun to the forehead. It might not be the cleanest or gentlest way to go, but it's better than a hunk of metal."

A few lips curled up at this while others –like Glenn –frowned and looked ready to vomit. The Asian, upon hearing this though, turned his gaze to his shuffling feet and stuffed his hands in his pockets, his tone despondent and his words mumbled. "Jim's not a dog, Max…"

Looking over at the younger man as he glanced up at me I managed to offer him a small sad smile of my own. "I know," I replied softly, understanding the man's distress. Jim was his friend too. He was all of ours'. "But if you were in his place would you rather take that or the pick axe?"

Glenn didn't respond and no one spoke for a few moments, most trying to process what needed to be done. We all knew it, just no one was willing to accept it or say it out loud except for me and Daryl. On the other side of the circle to me Dale shuffled on his feet and let a quiet sigh escape him.

"I hate to say it –I never thought I would –but maybe Daryl and Max are right," he said, his head shaking as a frown marred his wrinkled features.

"Jim's not a monster, Dale," Rick snapped at the older man from his opposite side. His head was downcast as he frowned at the dirt beneath his feet, but he looked up for a moment to throw me a fleeting glance. "Or some _rabid dog_."

Frowning, I allowed my eyebrows to knit above my nose. "They weren't rabid, just old and in pain…"

My quiet protest went unheard by the others as a small argument broke out. Well, except for maybe Daryl; I think I heard him give a small scoff.

"I'm not saying-!"

Dale's words became jumbled with everyone else's as the arguing was hushed when it became too loud. From my spot I let out a sigh and brought up my right hand to rub at the bridge of my nose in irritation. Beside me I could almost feel the annoyance rolling off Daryl in waves.

"Man, if we start down that road where do we draw the line?" Rick finally cut in amongst the bickering.

"The line's pretty clear," Daryl replied immediately, not giving anyone else a chance to answer. He shifted his feet causing our arms to bump together and I could feel the tension just from the brief touch. I had a bad feeling about this. "_Zero_ tolerance for Walkers or them-to-be."

"What if we can get him help?" Rick insisted. "I heard the CDC was workin' on a cure." Biting my lip I shook my head doubtfully, my own annoyance rising to match Daryl's.

"You might not remember because you were in a coma, Rick, but the rest of us lived through it. It's been almost two months since this shit all went down, the CDC's more than likely abandoned," I snapped. This earned me a hard stare from both Lori and Shane, but I ignored both of them and watched Rick as his frown deepened.

"We can try. There's no harm in tryin', Max," he tried.

"Oh no, of course not," I scoffed. "Because the undead don't outnumber us at all."

"Stop it!" Lori cut in snappishly, glaring daggers at me like I was the one to blame and I suppose in her eyes I was. Rick was the almighty Sherriff, some angel come back from the dead, and I was just some dumb Canadian that hung out with rednecks. I returned the woman's look full force, my thickly rimmed glasses not dulling the intensity of it in the least, and felt rather satisfied when she turned away almost immediately.

"We heard that too," Shane finally said, bringing the conversation back to the point. "Heard a lot of things before the world went to hell."

"But what if it _is_ still up and running?" Rick tried again and I couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes with another scoff. Lori sent me another glare that I ignored easily.

"I'm gonna have to go with Max on this one. It's very unlikely," Shane replied shaking his head.

"Why?" Man, this guy just wouldn't let it go. "If there's any government left, any structure at all, they'd protect the CDC at all costs wouldn't they? I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection, rescue –"

"Ok, Rick, you want those things, I do too, ok? Now if they exist they're at the army base: Fort Benning," Shane said.

"That's one hundred miles in the opposite direction," pointed out Lori.

"That is right, but it's away from the hot zone. Now listen to me, if that place is operational it'll be heavily armed. We'd be safe there."

"The military were on the front lines of this thing, they got overrun! We've all seen that! The CDC's our best choice and Jim's only chance," Rick continued to insist. Beside me I felt Daryl shift again and turned my head slightly to watch as he angled his body around to eye Jim who was watching the group argue with sad filled eyes.

There was a pause where no one spoke up again, most considering the two options, but I was too busy calculating the look in Daryl's eyes as he turned back around. Despite my knowledge of Daryl not liking to be touched I grabbed at his arm just above the elbow and he flinched at the touch. I made sure the redneck was looking me in the eye when I shook my head and tightened my hold on him when he attempted to pull away.

"Don't you dare think about it, Daryl Dixon," I warned icily. His lip curled up into a sneer as he shrugged out of my grasp and looked at Shane and Rick on the other side of the circle.

"You go lookin' for Aspirin," he spat out. "Do whatchya need to do." He began to back up from the circle and I reached out for him again, but missed as he dodged my hand. "But someone needs to have some balls and take care of this damn problem!"

It all happened so fast. Daryl spun around and raised his pick axe to strike Jim, who dove from his seat upon the overturned crate and shouts of protest were heard. Since I had anticipated Daryl's move I managed to reach the redneck before anyone else and grabbed at the still bloodied and disgusting metal head of the tool when the redneck lifted it over his shoulder to strike down. My front pressed against the hard planes of Daryl's back in my attempt to reach it and I was forced to press our bodies flush together. Just as this happened, I heard the clicking of a hammer being pulled back and watched as Rick's gun's silver barrel planted itself next to Daryl's temple.

Daryl froze at both mine and Rick's presence and I couldn't help but hold my breath as Shane also came around to our front to block Daryl's path to a cowering Jim. "We don't kill the living!" Rick growled at him and gradually I loosened my grip on the gory end of the pick axe allowing Daryl to lower the weapon enough to safely take a step back without fear of him raising it again. Turning, Daryl glared at both me and Rick, the ex-cop still having his revolver trained on him

"That's funny comin' from a man who just put a gun to my head," he remarked sarcastically, his tone a low drawl.

"We may disagree on some things," said Shane from the opposite side, "but not on this. You put it down." Daryl merely stared at him as I took another hesitant step back at Rick's encouraging nod. "Go on."

Like a moody child Daryl obliged and thrust the head of the pick axe into the dried dirt with an annoyed grunt before stalking off. Before he did though he made sure to throw me a glare that clearly was meant to tell me how betrayed he felt and because of it I felt a little guilty. Daryl was my friend, I wasn't about to deny that, but the way he wanted to go about this was all wrong, I strongly believed that. That still didn't stop me from feeling like I let him down, however.

Shane came forward to retrieve the tool as Rick, lowering his gun, stepped up to my side with a grim expression, watching Daryl's back as he left. "You need to get your friend under control."

"Do I look like his god damn babysitter? Daryl does whatever the fuck he wants," I sighed, crossing my arms again. "There _is_ no controlling him."

Who did this man think he was? As much as I respected him for having the balls to go back and look for Merle, I couldn't stop myself from being thoroughly annoyed with him. He was with us for, what, a day? Two tops. Already he was acting like he was the leader and so did the others. He might have been big boss man Sherriff back in whatever butt-fuck nowhere town he had come from, but that didn't mean he could suddenly call the shots around here. It was just like Shane; the moment I laid eyes on the ex-cop I knew he was going to be a hell of a lot to deal with. Rick, although kind to a certain extent and noble, was walking on eggshells in my opinion. And everyone was laying on the ground to let him walk all over them, more than happy to let him take the reins.

Rick didn't reply and moved past me to approach Jim and take his arm in his hand, hoisting the man up from the ground. "Come with me."

"Where are you taking me?" asked the infected man fearfully.

"Somewhere safe," the Sherriff replied as he cast a dark look at Daryl's figure stalking off and then to me as he passed by, his normally kind-seeming eyes watching me with distrust. I returned the look with my own defiant stare, refusing to back down just as I knew the Dixon brothers wouldn't.

After Rick and Jim were gone I took a moment to reflect on that thought. Had those two really affected me that much? Before all this shit I stood up for myself and my friends, sure, but never had I gone past anything more than a mediator. I didn't like to rock the boat, I didn't like conflict. I could blame it on the world falling apart and the human race being forced into instinctual survival mode, but I knew that would be a lie. My month and a half with the redneck brothers was why my inner bitch suddenly came up and out to play with the rest of the kids.

Shaking my head to rid myself of those thoughts I looked down at my hands that were still bloodied from grabbing at Daryl's pick axe and frowned. If I had gripped any harder or Daryl had put more effort into pulling the tool out of my hands then my palms definitely would have been sliced open and Jim wouldn't be the only one Daryl would be aiming his crossbow at. I wouldn't blame him either. Like I had told him in Atlanta; if I get bit or are in danger of turning at any time –take the fucking shot right in the forehead. Even though neither of us would have liked it.

Letting out a little groan for letting my thoughts wander again, I turned to follow Daryl like the good little bitch I was, but stopped when I saw Carol approaching him timidly, her head cast downward. Daryl had found another pick axe to bash heads in with and was moving over to another body after finishing caving in another skull when he spotted the other woman coming closer. He glanced at me briefly and when I shrugged he looked to Carol wordlessly. Her eyes were trained on the Walker Daryl was about to annihilate, tears ready to fall down her cheeks.

"I'll do it," she mumbled softly. Daryl glanced at me again, not making any move to hand the tool over, but my gaze had moved to the mutilated body as Carol elaborated. "He's my husband." She gave a small sniffle and held out her hand and this time Daryl obliged by handing it over.

Ed's body was nothing but a destroyed pile of flesh and blood and bone. Even his face wasn't recognizable with how much blood was smeared over it. His abdomen was torn open and his intestines were displayed around him in the dirt like some sort of sick art piece. One of his arms was hardly recognizable anymore due to the torn flesh and muscles being almost completely gone. As Carol began to sob quietly, her grip tightening on the wooden handle of the pick axe, I couldn't feel any ounce of sadness for his death, unlike the others. This man was a wife and child abuser, he deserved what he got.

Carol slowly raised the axe over her shoulder, the weight of it obviously a little too much for her scrawny arms, and she let out another sob as they shook. For a moment I was convinced she wouldn't be able to do it and I glanced at Daryl warily and he returned an unsure look of his own. However, Carol surprised both of us by bringing the axe down and plummeting the already bloodied end into the side of Ed's head. The skull caved and a splatter of blood and brains exploded from the impact.

She brought the pick axe down four more times regardless of the fact that the deed was done after the first, each hit coming with more sobs and blood. This was closure for her and her baby girl, I realized. Carol and Sophia were finally free.

By the time the fifth hit came, Ed's head was hardly recognizable past a pile of red chunky mush and I watched as Carol's arms dropped, the head of the pick axe thudding to the dirt beside her. Her legs were shaking too and before they gave out completely I raced to her side just in time to stop her body from crashing to the ground completely. Immediately her sobs grew in intensity and I wrapped one arm around her back as my free hand worked at prying her deathly pale fingers from the handle of the axe. As soon as her hand was free, her arms came around my shoulders in a tight embrace and her head dropped into my shoulder with muffled wails of sorrow.

"Shh, shh, Carol," I soothed gently as my hand rubbed gentle circles over her back. "It's ok. You did it. You're free."

Carol didn't respond, not that I expected her to anyway, but I continued to whisper soothingly into her ear even as my eyes traveled up to look at Daryl where he stood awkwardly watching the scene. His hand had come up at some point and he nibbled on his thumbnail as his feet shuffled back and forth. Upon seeing me looking at him he stopped moving and dropped his hand back to his side as I nodded to him and held out the handle of the pick axe. He took a moment to pause before taking it, a silent nod being returned and I had a feeling that the confrontation with Jim, Rick and Shane a few minutes ago was temporarily forgotten.

Now that my hand was free, I allowed it to join my other around Carol's back as she continued to cry. Daryl stood there for another moment before slowly moving to thrust the pick axe into the head of the last Walker that was near us with a grunt. Standing again, he moved off to another area without another word or glance.

It took several minutes for the tiny woman in my arms to calm down enough to breathe properly and another few for her to let me go and stand up with a little help. She wiped the tears still on her cheeks away and smiled shakily at me, her gaze pointed deliberately away from her dead husband. I smiled as gently at her as I could, but I knew –and I had no doubt that she did too –that this was a very rare thing. I wasn't used to being around crying women, or crying anything, ever since the break out. The Dixons didn't cry and, aside from the one night that I told Daryl about my friends, neither did I.

"Thank you," Carol sniffled finally, her eyes dropping to her hands where they twisted embarrassedly in front of her. "I'm sorry I got your shirt all wet."

"It's just a shirt, it can dry," I replied with a shrug as I placed a hand on her shoulder. "And you're welcome. You think you're going to be ok?"

She nodded and sniffled again before raising her red-rimmed eyes to give me a week smile. "Yeah. I should get back to Sophia."

"Ok," I said softly and gave her shoulder a pat before she scurried off. Alone once again my gaze drifted to Ed's mutilated corpse lying in the dirt at my feet. Once again I felt no sympathy or grief for his loss, only pride in what Carol had been able to bring herself to do. It made me think on what Daryl would do if he found his brother in a not-so-alive condition. He had the balls to kill Walkers from up close, but how different would it be if it was his brother?

A gunshot shattered the silence of my wandering thoughts and I jumped, my hand automatically moving to the handle of my machete still at my hip just in case another horde of the undead were on their way. But no other shots followed the first and I looked around camp for the source of the noise only to have my eyes focus on Andrea where she hunched over her sister by the RV.

Shane, Rick and Dale stood off to the side watching her as well, their expressions sad and downcast. I knew then that Amy had come back and Andrea had fulfilled her promise, as was obvious by the new splatter of brain matter spread out around Amy's head and Andrea's renewed sobs. Biting my lip I debated going over there to comfort the blonde woman like I had done with Carol, but stopped myself before I took the first step.

I wasn't a mushy gushy kind of person. Consoling Carol like I did was a once in a blue moon kind of thing and I didn't even really like Andrea. As much as I thought she needed comforting at the moment, I figured I'd leave that for Lori or Dale to do, not someone like me who thought she was a stuck up bitch from Florida.

Which she was, just to be clear.

"Hey."

I jumped at the new voice and spun around to find Daryl standing there with his pick axe over his shoulder and his eyes squinted from the sun as they watched me. He didn't even wait for me to form a greeting before he was talking again. "They're startin' to wrap up the ones we're burryin'. Gonna load 'em into my truck and take 'em to the cliff," he said with a nod in the direction of the cliff. "Shane and Rick are getting' ready to dig some holes."

"I'm sorry," I blurted when he stopped long enough for me to get a word in. He blinked in surprise and just stared at me and it occurred to me that he probably didn't know what I was apologizing for. "You know, for earlier. That whole thing with Jim."

Realization dawned on him and his expression turned back to neutral as he gave a half-assed shrug. "Whatever."

"No, it's not 'whatever'," I sighed with an eye roll. "I'm on your side for most things, especially when it comes to Walkers, but Jim's still alive."

"He ain't gonna be for long," he countered. "And when he comes back, we're all in shit. You get that, right?"

"Of course I do," I scoffed, my arms coming up to cross over my chest. "But like I said earlier; it shouldn't be done with a pick axe. We should take care of it with a gun."

"And attract more Walkers," he rebutted.

"We're going to be moving out soon anyway. Now that we've been attacked, I highly doubt Rick and Shane, or anyone else for that matter, will want to stick around here." As I spoke I searched the camp for the said ex-cops only to find their dark silhouettes moving up the hill where they'd be digging holes up on the cliff. I heard Daryl scoff as he came up beside me and I turned my head to look at him again.

"Not that I'm complainin' 'bout movin', but who the hell put them in charge?"

"The divine leadership of the almighty God and the plans He makes for us mere mortals; His children," I replied monotonously, but couldn't stop myself from laughing when Daryl scowled deeply. "I'm kidding. Fuck if I know though. First it was Shane thinking he was all badass and now that Rick showed up it's like they're fighting for the crown or something." I then raised an eyebrow at him. "Planning on taking over?"

"Fuck no."

"Why not?" I grinned.

"I already got one annoying bitch on my ass all the time. Don't need any more," he shot back with a small smirk in my direction. I made a sound of indignation and my hand shot out to smack his arm. He moved just in time to miss getting hit and shuffled away to his old blue truck, throwing me a smug look over his shoulder. I rolled my eyes, but smiled as I followed him, ready to help him unload Merle's motorcycle before hauling in the dead campers to take up to the cliff.


End file.
